


Toxic Valentine

by voxofthevoid



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Demon Hunters, Alternate Universe - Demons, Demon Hunter Victor Nikiforov, Developing Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Falling In Love, First Meetings, Katsuki Yuuri Thigh Appreciation, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Secrets, Slow Burn Mystery, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Urban Fantasy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-17
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2019-03-05 21:14:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 64,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13396365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voxofthevoid/pseuds/voxofthevoid
Summary: The worst he can do is kill you with his dick.Viktor, pleasantly tipsy and unpleasantly lonely, assumes that the pretty man he sees in a club is a sex demon. Instead, he finds reserved, nervous Katsuki Yuuri who’s as reluctantly enchanted by Viktor as Viktor is by him.The rest of the night is unforgettable, and in the morning, Yuuri’s still there.Love bleeds into lust, infatuation becomes adoration, and it's not long before the loneliness Viktor wears like a shroud disintegrates under the weight of warm brown eyes and tender hands. But Viktor has his secrets, and Yuuri might not be all he seems.In which Viktor discovers life and love in a man who’s as mysterious as he is beautiful, and it could be the best or worst thing that’s ever happened to him.





	1. got my mind on your body (and your body on my mind)

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write a one-shot or something smaller before starting another long-ish WIP but well, here we are.
> 
> Enjoy? Enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The worst he can do is kill you with his dick._

“Haven’t you had quite enough, Viktor?”

Viktor peered at Chris, clutching his drink protectively.

“No.”

He downed the cocktail in a single swallow, licking his lips at the fruity taste. Viktor had started with vodka, but Chris had been the one getting drinks after the first two rounds, and he kept plying Viktor with these cute, colorful things that tasted nice but didn’t get him as drunk as he wanted to be. He knew it was deliberate, and he didn’t like it.

“Chriiiiiis. Vodka.”

A theatrical sigh answered him. Chris shook his head as he plucked Viktor’s glass from his hands and walked off, but his disapproval slid off Viktor like warm water. After spending the better part of two decades with Yakov, he liked to think he was immune to it. Besides, if Chris wanted Viktor to spend his night in some stuffy club, then he better give him enough alcohol to make it worth his time. He could have been with Makkachin now, playing with her cute floppy ears and lamenting his inability to give her another father.

Huh, maybe that was why Chris had dragged him out.

Well, it was unnecessary then. Viktor didn’t need a man. He was perfectly happy on his lonesome with only the sweetest dog in the world for company.

And if he’d spend the entirety of last night tossing in bed, trying to make sense of why he was handsome and well-off but still alone and suffocatingly lonely, well, that really wasn’t anyone's business but his own.

He really needed another drink, but where in all the hells was Chris?

He was probably stalling. His excitement at getting Viktor to go out seemed to have vanished the moment he realized Viktor had no intention to do anything but sit in a corner table and drown the sorrows he absolutely did not have.

What else was he supposed to do anyway? Dance? His back still ached from where he’d been thrown against a wall the other night. Flesh-eater demons were _strong_. And he didn’t want to dance anyway. The best that could come out of it was a night of good fun that would leave his bed as cold as ever in the morning.

Minutes passed and still no Chris. Viktor tore his eyes away from the grainy surface of the tabletop to survey the crowd. There wasn’t much of one down here. The dance floor was on the first floor and if memory served, that had its own bar. The ground level just had several tables scattered across it, and most of them were filled with chatting groups and the rare loners. As he watched, a group of pastel-clad youths stumbled down the stairs, sweaty and grinning, laughing loudly as they made their way to the exit.

The clock mounted on the wall showed it was one in the morning. A part of him wanted to leave and collapse in bed, but the rest of him wanted to get so drunk, he’d forget his own name and pass out in bliss until he inevitably woke up with an elephant stomping on his head.

Either way, he needed Chris unless he intended to get up. He did not intend to get up.

He wasn’t at the bar, not that Viktor could see. Maybe he went to the bathroom.

Viktor looked anyway, trailing his eyes from table to table, past three women with shaved heads and ample piercings, a couple kissing while their friends cheered them on, a lone man with–

Oh.

Viktor’s mouth went dry.

He was still looking at the same table when Chris finally showed up.

“So sorry, darling, I went to the bathroom and met this delightful man. I didn’t catch his na – Viktor, are you listening?”

“Is he a sex demon?”

“What the hell? Where?”

“Man in a white shirt. Table closest to the bar,” Viktor said without taking his eyes off the man. He wasn’t sure if he _could_. “Doesn’t he look like one?”

There was a long silence from Chris.

“Viktor,” he said, low and careful. “He’s just sitting there. Alone. Nursing a drink. Not typical sex-fiend behavior.”

“But–”

Viktor made sweeping notion with his hand, wrenching his eyes off the guy to look pleadingly at Chris who stared back with pure confusion on his face.

“Look at him!” Viktor whisper-yelled. “He’s too beautiful to be human, Chris!”

And he was. Artfully messy brown hair, a soft, round face framed in blue-rimmed glasses, and rick dark eyes that…were staring right at Viktor.

They hadn’t been doing that a minute ago.

“Looks like he’s spotted you,” Chris helpfully provided, not sounding as worried he did whenever their covers were blown.

“Quick,” Viktor murmured, jerking his head away. “Act casual.”

Chris just looked unreasonably amused.

“Oh, Viktor, I knew it was bad, but if you can’t deal with even attraction without bringing demons into it, then it’s worse than I imagined. Yakov’s overworking you, darling.”

“What? No, don’t be ridiculous.”

“You’re overworking yourself then. Either way, you need a break. And maybe White Shirt over there will help you with that. He’s cute.”

“I am not consorting with a demon,” Viktor said with great indignation, except that it came out weak and hollow.

Already, he was itching to sneak another glance at the man.

“He’s no demon, and your criteria for labeling him one is weak at best. Come on, Viktor, you’re not drunk enough for this.”

“I’m not drunk at all,” Viktor complained. “And that’s your fault.”

“I take full responsibility. Now go over there.”

Rather than reply, Viktor covertly shot another look at the potential demon. At least it was meant to be a glance, but his eyes caught on the soft curve of a cheek and lingered, slowly mapping out each inch of that inhumanly pretty face. It was like he couldn’t turn away.

Surely, this man wasn’t human. He’d encountered quite a few sex-fiends in his career, and while none of them had arrested him like this, he also hadn’t been unaffected by the way they seemed to pull in every breathing human in their vicinity. The problem was that said humans never remained breathing for much longer.

Chris could mock him, but Viktor trusted his instincts. The man really was too beautiful.

Unreal, like a dream craved out of Viktor’s mind.

He could feel his heart race.

The next second, he was once again locking eyes with that dark, penetrating gaze. The man looked away first, ducking his head with faint pink dusting his cheeks. Someone made a desperate little noise, and it took Chris doubling over laughing for Viktor realize that it had come from him.

“Adorable, the both of you,” Chris said through breathy chuckles. “Honestly, Viktor, just go to him.”

Viktor opened his mouth to insist that the man likely was a demon, but one look at Chris’s face told him it was pointless. He was smiling in that sly way that said he was seconds away from spewing some perverted comment. And usually, Viktor would stick around to listen, but just this once, he was in no mood for it.

“If I end up a soulless husk in some alley, it’s on you,” he hissed, decision made.

“We all know demons don’t eat souls, Viktor. Worst he’d do is kill you with his dick. I’ve always maintained that it’s the best way to go.”

Viktor snorted, pushing down the retort that Chris wouldn’t be so cavalier if they were out hunting. They weren’t though, and it was clear that Chris thought this was just Viktor being drunk and ridiculous. It wasn’t like he had proof that the man was a demon anyway, his beauty aside.

The wisest thing to do would be to get out of here and sleep it off.

“I’m going to him, Chris.”

“Finally. Have fun. Be safe.”

Viktor gamely ignored the last bit and made his way over to the man.

“Hi,” he chirped. “Can I join you?”

The man just looked up at Viktor with his eyes blown wide behind his glasses. They were dark and deep, threatening to swallow Viktor whole.

The silence stretched on for a long moment before the man made a feeble wave at the seat opposite him.

Viktor settled in, smiling widely. Oddly enough, he didn’t feel as afraid as he should even when Chris’s words about death via dick slithered into his thoughts with disturbing frequency.

“I’m Viktor.”

He stuck out his hand. The other man stared at it for a few seconds before taking it. Despite his hesitance, his grip was warm and firm. Viktor felt the loss acutely when he had to let go.

“Yuuri. I’m Yuuri.”

“Nice to meet you, Yuuri.”

Viktor liked the way that name rolled of his tongue. It was tempting to say it again, but the way Yuuri was eyeing him warily made him resist the urge.

“Hi?” Yuuri offered after a few beats of silence.

“Hello!”

That won him a smile, albeit one that was swallowed in a frown a second later.

“Are you…drunk, Viktor?”

“Just a little. I was going to drink more but you distracted me.”

“Uh, yeah, I noticed that.”

“My friend said I should come over here.”

Yuuri blinked owlishly and leaned to the side, looking over at Viktor’s old table. Viktor kept watching Yuuri and didn’t see what Chris did, but the next moment, Yuuri turned pink and slumped in his chair, studiously avoiding Viktor’s gaze.

“I – okay. Nice to meet you too, Viktor.”

A little thrill zinged up his spine at the way Yuuri said his name.

More silence. Yuuri was fidgeting, picking at his sleeves. Viktor’s attention was drawn to his hand, to long fingers and neatly trimmed nails. Faintly green veins were visible through the skin, and Viktor’s own fingers itched with the need to trace them.

Chris had called it attraction. Viktor wasn’t denying it, but he’d never felt anything like this before. It was easier to think it was unnatural, the product of a demon’s thrall.

But Yuuri wasn’t acting like a sex-fiend would. He didn’t charm Viktor with smooth words and clever touches, didn’t seduce him away to secluded places, didn’t, in fact, even seem interested in him.

Viktor was almost offended. He had long since turned acting as bait for demons into an art form, and they fell for it every single time. And now here was Yuuri, not even _looking_ at Viktor.

He stopped staring at the hollow of Yuuri’s throat and looked at his face, only to bite back another embarrassing noise when he found him worrying those plump pink lips with his teeth.

Viktor was feeling vaguely jealous of teeth, and he couldn’t even blame the alcohol for it.

“So, come here alone?” Viktor forced himself to ask, injecting an inordinate amount of cheer into his voice.

Yuuri jerked as if startled – had he actually forgotten that Viktor was here?

“Ah, no, I came with a friend. He’s upstairs, dancing.”

“Don’t you want to?”

“Not really,” came the dry response, followed by another faint frown. “Why do you care?”

Viktor had no response to that, at least none he could give. Somehow, he doubted that _I_ _thought you were a sex demon and came over to prove that to my friend_ would go over well, especially when Viktor was starting to doubt it himself the more time he spent in Yuuri’s presence.

It shouldn’t really be a problem. Viktor had a tongue silver enough to match his hair, and he’d used that to his advantage since his teens.

“I, uh, well, I came to – you were here and I – I mean I wanted to – yeah.”

The torrent of nonsensical words came to a stop. Viktor’s face froze into an awkward smile.

So much for that silver tongue then.

Yuuri was just gaping at him, lips slightly parted.

“Come again?” he asked faintly.

“I wanted to ask you to dance!” Viktor blurted out, his voice a shade too loud.

Yuuri blinked at him.

“Are you flirting with me?”

 _No, absolutely no_ –

“Yes,” Viktor said before he could stop himself. “Sorry?”

Yuuri was silent and very carefully not looking at Viktor again. Viktor wilted in his chair, wishing he’d just stayed put at his table with a nice bottle of vodka. But try as he might, he couldn’t really bring himself to want to leave.

“Don’t be,” Yuuri said after a while. “I’m…flattered. You’re very, um, well.”

Viktor perked up a little, but Yuuri seemed to have no intention of finishing that sentence.

“I don’t want to dance though,” Yuuri told him. “Sorry. Thanks for the offer.”

“Ah, about that, I don’t really want to either.”

“You just said–”

“I wanted an excuse to talk to you,” Viktor cut in, feeling his cheeks warm.

Yuuri was staring again, but there was something like wonder on his face. A small smile quirked his lips, slowly spreading into a grin that stole Viktor’s breath.

“Do you want to get dinner?”

The question was out before he could second-guess it. The next moment, he felt like a fool because Yuuri was looking at the clock with one eyebrow raised.

“It’s almost two.”

It didn’t sound like rejection. Viktor took a deep breath, bid all sense goodbye, and took the plunge.

“I’m sure some place is still open.”

 

* * *

 

“When you went over to him,” Chris told Viktor, sounding very put upon, “I thought you’d take him home, not on a date. It’s two in the morning, Viktor.”

Viktor just shrugged, periodically shooting glances at the stairs to the upper floor.

“You’re already smitten.” Chris sounded torn between laughter and incredulity. “I can’t believe it.”

“He’s so pretty. And his _eyes_ , Chris.”

Chris snorted, giving Viktor a look that made him feel distinctly judged.

“And to think you’d have stayed here thinking he’s a demon if I hadn’t intervened.”

Viktor wanted to tell Chris that he still wasn’t sure of that part. But for all that Viktor trusted his instincts, even he was starting to question if his doubts about Yuuri really were just misplaced attraction.

It probably said something about him that he was leaving with Yuuri anyway.

He’d picked up a few men in bars before but those encounters had all been more frantic and less exciting than this one. There was just something about Yuuri, and all wariness aside, Viktor wanted him.

“You’ll be alright alone?” Viktor asked Chris.

“Sure. My mystery man is somewhere up there. I’ll just join him.”

Viktor smiled ruefully.

“I’ve been keeping you from having fun. Sorry.”

Chris tsked, flicking Viktor on the forehead.

“Don’t be silly, Viktor. I stayed with you because I wanted to. I’m the one who dragged you here in the first place. And now that you’ve found better company, I shall leave you in his hands.”

“Not _better_ company,” Viktor protested. “I like spending time with you.”

“Yes, that’s why you were moping like a soap opera hero until Yuuri there caught your eye. No, no, I get it. You need something I cannot give you.”

There was nothing Viktor could say to that. He was even aware that whatever he was missing, it might remain that way for the rest of his life, however short that might be. Hunters didn’t exactly live long lives. Yakov and Lilia were exceptions.

“Enjoy yourself tonight, Viktor. And text me in the morning, just in case.”

“I will,” Viktor promised, and as if on cue, Yuuri was there, winding between tables to reach Viktor. He hovered awkwardly for a moment, nodding at Chris.

“Shall we?”

Viktor almost tripped over himself as he rushed to join him. He pretended not to hear Chris’s badly suppressed laugher.

“Yes, please. Did you tell your friend?”

“Yeah. Phichit’s staying a while longer. Your friend…?”

“Him too. Staying, I mean.”

For another moment, they both just stood there, staring at each other and shifting on their feet.

Viktor heard Chris mutter an amused _Wow_.

“Let’s–”

“Yeah.”

Once outside, there was another moment of indecision, this one solved more quickly.

“Walk or cab?” Yuuri asked, eyeing the road and the stores scattered around them.

“Walk? If you want to, that is.”

And so they walked.

There wasn’t much talking. Viktor tried to initiate a few times, but it eventually tapered off into awkward silence. Maybe Chris was right, and he should have taken Yuuri home instead.

He did learn Yuuri’s full name; Katsuki Yuuri, Yuuri Katsuki. He repeated it under his breath a few times, trying to get the pronunciation right, and when he did, the little smile Yuuri gave him made something flutter in his chest.

Or maybe Chris was wrong, and a one-night stand wasn’t what Viktor needed. No, he _knew_ it wasn’t what he needed. He couldn’t know how this night would end, and he could easily see Yuuri in his bed, but then Yuuri would tilt his head just right or his eyes would catch the light, and Viktor would find himself aching for something he couldn’t name.

He was getting sentimental in his old age, never mind that he wasn’t yet thirty.

They ended up in a diner, meeting each other’s eyes over greasy food. Viktor wasn’t all that hungry, but he ate his fries without complaint because if his mouth was left unoccupied, he might blurt something about how sexy Yuuri looked eating a burger.

Halfway through their meals, he found the nerve to dip a fry in sauce and offer it to Yuuri.

For a second, Yuuri just stared at it, but the next moment, he was leaning forward, taking the offering with his gaze firmly on Viktor’s.

Viktor licked his lips, gut clenching when Yuuri’s eyes followed the motion.

He fed the rest of his fries to Yuuri.

By the end, he was distinctly sober and extremely horny.

Yuuri looked relaxed too, and he looked at Viktor more, holding his gaze for longer stretches of time. They still didn’t speak much. Viktor didn’t want to make things weird with small talk, and he had no idea what else they could discuss. The situation was hardly normal.

But he was content enough to just look at Yuuri for as long as he was allowed to.

And Yuuri did allow, even when the pink on his cheeks brightened into a pretty red.

They were sipping their drinks, coke for Yuuri and orange soda for Viktor, when conversation resumed, Yuuri initiating.

“I’m glad we came here instead of dancing. I don’t like crowds.”

“I like you,” said Viktor, whose brain had temporarily ceased all logical functions.

He couldn’t even enjoy Yuuri’s flaming blush properly, too worried that he’d crossed a line.

“Are you still drunk?” Yuuri asked, looking very intently at his can.

“No,” Viktor answered honestly. “Not even tipsy anymore.”

He hadn’t drunk too much anyway, and even the pleasant buzz he’d been sporting had been erased by the walk and the food. Now, he was pleasantly buzzing for a whole other reason.

Then again, it was better this way. Getting too drunk would only have turned him into a moping mess for Chris to sort out, not to mention that, in that state, he might have actually accused Yuuri of being a demon to his face.

God, that would have been embarrassing.

Chris was right. Things really were bad if Viktor was driven to find strange explanations just for finding a man attractive.

To be fair though, there was no ‘just’ about it. Yuuri was unfairly beautiful. And Viktor was drawn to him with startling intensity.

“You’re staring again,” Yuuri told him, smiling a little.

“I like looking at you. Does it make you uncomfortable? I can stop.”

“You did it in the club,” Yuuri said instead of answering Viktor’s question. “I was confused then too. Why would you want to look at me?”

“You’re beautiful. Why wouldn’t I want to look at you?”

“ _Me_?” For the first time since they’d met, a fire lit up Yuuri’s eyes. It made him all the more gorgeous. “Look at _you_ , Viktor.”

Viktor couldn’t say anything for a long moment, stunned into silence at the fierceness with which Yuuri had said those words. Those pretty brown eyes were fixed on him, heated and intent as they drank in the blush spreading over Viktor’s face.

“Come home with me,” Viktor asked before he could stop himself. “That is, if you want–”

“Yes,” answered Yuuri, soft but firm. “Yes.”

 

* * *

 

“I’ve never done this sober,” Yuuri told him half an hour later, gently pressing Viktor against his own door.

Viktor’s answer was lost in Yuuri’s lips.

It was their first kiss. They’d held hands in the cab, fingers wandering as far as wrists before returning to lock into a tight grip that anchored Viktor to the present reality that was him taking home a man he wanted with every fiber of his being, lust and longing intertwining into an overwhelming blend that shattered Viktor’s ongoing rejection of trysts like these.

Tomorrow morning, Yuuri could be gone, and Viktor’s heart might ache.

But for now, he had him.

And Yuuri was so tender when he kissed Viktor, mouth sweet and slow as it made love to Viktor’s lips. Viktor clutched at Yuuri’s shoulders and shivered, making a desperate, throaty noise when Yuuri caught his lower lip between his teeth.

Yuuri pulled away all too soon, and Viktor chased him helplessly.

The next kiss was just as soft, Yuuri’s sigh a delicate little thing that wormed its way through Viktor’s ribcage to settle somewhere deep in his heart. He clung tighter to Yuuri and parted his mouth in an invitation that Yuuri answered with gratifying urgency.

He tasted like salt and sauce, and Viktor kissed him greedily, sucking on his tongue until Yuuri moaned deep and low and pressed into him. Viktor shifted, slotting a leg in between Yuuri’s, delighted to find him hard in his jeans. Some gentle pressure earned him another moan, and suddenly, Yuuri was kissing him harder, deeper, licking into Viktor’s mouth until he was dizzy with it.

“Bed?” Yuuri asked, breath huffing against Viktor’s mouth, and Viktor wasted no time tugging him there.

He spared a moment to be thankful that he’d dropped Makkachin off at Yakov’s before leaving with Chris. He hadn’t anticipated returning with company, had only wanted not to disturb his girl by stumbling home drunk at some unholy hour, but his plans for the night had clearly been turned on their head, and he had a feeling he wouldn’t regret a thing.

At least not until the night was over.

Yuuri never once took his hands off Viktor as they navigated through the dark; hands around his waist, lips on his shoulder, palms on his ass. It had Viktor itching to strip and lay himself bare so that he could feel every single touch on his skin.

Inside, he paused to switch on the light, both of them squinting for a moment. Then Viktor was backing up towards the bed, enticing Yuuri to follow with every inch of his body.

And Yuuri did, eyeing Viktor like a starving man.

Gone was all trace of the nervous, hesitant man whom Viktor had accosted in the club. This was more of the Yuuri who’d gazed at Viktor with liquid heat in his eyes at that diner, and he made Viktor’s stomach swoop in a way that was reassuringly similar but thrillingly different from before.

Viktor reached for Yuuri’s shirt the moment he was within reach. He popped the first button, swallowing as more skin was revealed, and stopped, fingers resting lightly on the next.

“May I?”

Yuuri colored slightly but nodded.

The shirt fell to the floor in a rustle of fabric, and Viktor paused just long enough to let his own join it before reaching for Yuuri with hungry hands.

He froze the next moment because Yuuri was staring, not at Viktor’s shapely pecs or defined abs but at the sun-and-dagger tattoo carved over his heart. Viktor was suddenly starkly reminded that he’d initially mistaken Yuuri to be a demon.

He hoped it had been a mistake.

“That’s pretty,” Yuuri said after a beat, moving closer. His palm came to hover above the tattoo as if asking permission.

Viktor released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and took a step forward so that Yuuri’s hand rested firmly on his skin.

His hand was warm. Viktor shuddered at the touch.

It had been a while since he’d slept with someone. His body reacted with all the need he’d suppressed, melting into Yuuri who took that as the permission it was and let his hands roam all over Viktor’s torso. His touches were gentle, firm, and reverent, and Viktor would feel embarrassed at how swiftly they had him achingly hard, but he was too busy luxuriating in the feel of skin on skin. Yuuri made pleased little sounds when Viktor shifted against him, and each one travelled straight to Viktor’s dick.

Yuuri’s hand stroked down his spine and over the clothed curve of his ass, squeezing gently. Viktor made a needy little noise. Yuuri answered his unspoken plea and kneaded the flesh, rough and just right, and Viktor hid his face in the curve of his neck, panting.

“Off,” he muttered, plucking at his own belt. “Now.”

Yuuri’s agreement was quick and breathless, and the next minute was spent pulling off their jeans. Viktor had long since accepted that there was no sexy way to get out of pants, let alone _socks_ , but Yuuri was one person for whom he’d have tried if only he weren’t so busy tearing off his clothes with all the speed granted by sheer lustful desperation.

Finally free of the last bit of fabric, he climbed on the bed and scooted back to better see Yuuri who was hopping on one foot as he peeled off his socks. It was a shockingly cute sight, but the next moment, Viktor was distracted by the view of Yuuri fully, gloriously naked.

A whimper escaped him.

Yuuri was lovely, his skin smooth and unmarred unlike Viktor who wore two decades’ worth of scars on his body. But it was his thighs that had Viktor squirming in place. They were so _thick_ …as were other things.

Yuuri, finally having won the battle against his socks, looked straight at Viktor with reddened cheeks.

“I, um–”

“Get in here,” Viktor ordered, tacking on a please as an afterthought. His libido wasn’t in the mood to be polite.

Yuuri didn’t seem to mind if the speed with which he joined Viktor was any indication.

His thighs were as heavenly as they appeared, and Viktor really just wanted them wrapped around his head, but Yuuri seemed to have other ideas which involved pinning Viktor to the bed and kissing him within an inch of his life, and even if he had the breath to complain, he wouldn’t.

His back twinged a little, reminding him of its close encounter with a brick wall, but Viktor ignored it in favor of licking into Yuuri’s mouth, drinking down the little noises he made with blatant greed.

“Fuck,” Yuuri bit out when Viktor let him breathe. “You’re so hot.”

Viktor preened as best as he could with most of him trapped under Yuuri. It was right where he wanted to be.

Yuuri shifted, lifting up on to his elbows to better look at Viktor. He spread his legs so that Yuuri could slot into place between them, their cocks tantalizingly close to each other. Viktor let his hands wander over Yuuri’s shoulders, admiring the softness of his flesh and the hard muscle underneath. He squeezed a bicep, and Yuuri sighed, leaning down for a lazy kiss.

“You are too,” Viktor whispered, barely recognizing his own voice. “So damn sexy.”

Yuuri made a faint noise, almost disbelieving.

“You are,” Viktor insisted, and this time, Yuuri laughed and kissed him again, light and playful. They were both grinning when they parted.

Yuuri cradled Viktor’s face in one hand, thumbing the skin under his eyes and then trailing it down, resting two fingers over his pulse before returning to what had fascinated him since the beginning – Viktor’s tattoo.

“Do you like it?” Viktor asked slyly as Yuuri carefully traced its edges.

“It’s almost golden,” Yuuri answered, not taking his eyes off it. “I’ve never seen anything like it. It suits you well.”

In spite of everything that had happened and even the confidence with which he had invited Yuuri into his bed, hearing that Yuuri had never seen a tattoo like this had Viktor relaxing entirely.

Two ivory daggers crossed over a glaring sun – it wasn’t Viktor’s aesthetic choice. But the organization he worked for did not understand the meaning of cliché, and well, there was a reason he and most others called it The Organization rather than its official name.

At least Viktor looked good in gold. Yuuri clearly agreed.

One moment, he was admiring the tattoo and the next, he had Viktor’s nipple between his thumb and finger. The pressure was sudden and shocking, pulling a breathy gasp out of Viktor.

“This good?” Yuuri asked, massaging the little nub.

“ _Yes_ ,” Viktor hissed. “You can do it harder.”

Yuuri made an interested little hum and did as told, rolling the nipple between his fingers. He lowered his head to take the other between his lips, wetting it with his tongue before closing his teeth around it, gently at first, and when Viktor keened in encouragement, not so gently.

It wasn’t long before Viktor was writhing, one hand tangled in the mop of Yuuri’s hair and pressing him down to his chest while the other slid between their bodies to grab hold of his cock, jerking off messily.

Yuuri mumbled something incoherent against Viktor’s chest and rose, stealing a kiss before pulling back to kneel between Viktor’s legs. He watched Viktor work his cock and joined in, slotting his own hand over Viktor’s. It wasn’t much, he could barely feel Yuuri, but it still had Viktor biting out a curse and bucking his hips. 

Yuuri’s eyes were wide and blown, his lips wet and bitten red, and he looked at Viktor with such naked want that he felt like he couldn’t breathe with it.

“Can I fuck you?” Yuuri asked, something like hunger in his voice.

Viktor’s breath got punched out of him.

“Yes, yes, god, yeah,” he chanted, drawing his legs up and spreading them wider. Yuuri’s gaze trickled down to the newly exposed parts, and he swore, quiet and vehement, grip tightening around Viktor’s cock.

“I won’t last if you keep that up,” Viktor warned him, reluctantly withdrawing his own hand. “I want to come with you inside me.”

“Fuck,” Yuuri said succinctly.

He let Viktor go and closed his eyes, taking a few deep breaths as Viktor watched on curiously.

“Yuuri?”

“You’re too–” Yuuri shook his head as if dazed. “I’m so wound up, and I haven’t even touched myself yet.”

Viktor flushed from chest to ear, Yuuri’s words dancing along his nerves.

“We should fix that.”

But Yuuri shook his head.

“I want to wait.”

He didn’t need to specify what he was waiting for. Viktor swallowed hard.

It was torture to pry himself away from Yuuri long enough to grab lube and condoms. He didn’t have any fear of the latter having expired. He might not have had company in bed for months, but there were times when he wanted to jerk off without dealing with the mess afterward. Supplies were always kept close at hand, but at the moment, the few seconds it took to retrieve them felt like an eternity. His cock hung heavy between his legs, aching to be touched.

“How do you want me?” Viktor asked when he returned, winding his arms around Yuuri and pressing their torsos together.

Yuuri didn’t answer, too busy mouthing along Viktor’s neck and groping his ass with greedy hands. Viktor pushed into the touches, ignoring the way his back hurt at the position.

“I wanna see your face,” Yuuri mumbled against Viktor’s throat. He pulled back with a suckled kiss to his pulse. “Is that okay?”

“A thousand times, yes.”

“Can I?” Yuuri asked again some minutes later, with Viktor laid out before him like a decadent buffet.

Viktor answered by reaching down to grab his cheeks and spread them wide. The sound Yuuri made, all heated frustration, had him smirking.

“You’re a menace,” Yuuri gasped.

“I don’t think you mind,” Viktor said, winking. “Get on with it, won’t you? Or would you rather I prep myself? You look like the type who’d love to _watch_.”

He dragged out the last word, rolling each sound on his tongue, a blatant tease that Yuuri answered with flashing eyes and slick fingers that slid between Viktor’s cheeks to rub against his hole.

Viktor exhaled sharply, all words fleeing him at the first, insistent press of a finger into him. Yuuri was careful, eyes flickering between Viktor’s face and his ass, but he didn’t let up either, working that finger into Viktor inch by inch until it was buried well within him.

“Good?” he asked, and Viktor couldn’t react beyond a nod.

It was always different to have another person’s fingers inside him. Good different.

“More,” Viktor demanded when Yuuri just continued to play around with the one.

A second nudged his hole, pressing in along the first, a little faster, just enough to make Viktor clutch the sheets and arch his back. The pressure alone had him worked up beyond belief, but then Yuuri reached in deep and twisted those fingers, pulling at Viktor in ways that had him swallowing groans and clenching his fists, until they finally brushed that little bundle of nerves that tore a startled cry out of his throat.

Yuuri’s grin was nothing short of triumphant.

The third finger joined without prompting, sliding inside a little slower than the others. But Viktor could take it, he knew he could take it, and he grit his teeth and bore down, ignoring the little shushing noises Yuuri made until that too was all the way inside him.

He turned to press his face into his pillow, closing his eyes and breathing hard.

Yuuri was there, fingers motionless inside Viktor but still filling him so good. He ran his free hand up and down Viktor’s thighs in slow, soothing strokes, murmuring gentle nothings in a language that was alien to Viktor’s ears.

It didn’t take long for Viktor to tire of the stillness and move, squirming around Yuuri’s fingers. Yuuri took the cue and started thrusting, fucking Viktor open with little motions that grew deeper and deeper, fanning his fingers now and then to pry him a precious bit wider. Viktor dug his teeth into his hand to muffle moans, but that only made Yuuri more determined to pull sounds out of him.

“Come on,” he coaxed. “Let me hear, Viktor. You’re so hot, and you’re going to feel so _good_ around my cock.”

Viktor keened, riding Yuuri’s fingers with helpless jerks of his hips.

“Fuck me then,” he ground out when he found his voice. “Stop teasing.”

“You’re one to talk,” Yuuri replied, almost too low to hear.

The next moment, he proved he was a saint by withdrawing his fingers and following it up with the tearing of condom wrapper.

Viktor pulled his legs up to his chest, not as far as he could because his pity for his back overrode, at least for the moment, the desire to show off just how flexible he could be. But Yuuri seemed impressed anyway if the speed with which he fell upon Viktor was any indication.

The blunt press of his cock stole Viktor’s breath the next moment. It _felt_ bigger than it looked, and Viktor’s fingers dug bruises onto his own thighs as Yuuri pushed in, each inch of him spearing Viktor open in perfect, maddening ways. He panted, shaking his head violently whenever Yuuri tried to slow down. He wanted it like this, needed the burn, and it was so worth it to see how Yuuri’s face twist into something that might as well be pain as he buried his cock inside Viktor.

“Oh,” Yuuri breathed, head bent and chest heaving. “Oh, god.”

“Yeah,” Viktor agreed, laughing a little. “Me too.”

It took several seconds before Yuuri moved, and Viktor didn’t rush him, taking the time to adjust to the sudden fullness in his ass. It was good, more than good, the _best_ , and Viktor couldn’t help the way he kept clenching around Yuuri, least of all when it drew such sweet sounds out of him.

Yuuri’s hands slid under Viktor’s ass and lifted, angling him to Yuuri’s liking. The shift made them both groan. Viktor watched Yuuri bite his lip until it almost bled and had to fight not to follow suit.

And then Yuuri was fucking him nice and proper, pulling out till Viktor whined at the emptiness before shoving back inside, sending shocks of pleasure wracking through his body with each sweet thrust. Yuuri had his eyes closed and mouth open, a litany of broken noises spilling from his lips to join Viktor’s own staccato cries.

Viktor released his death grip on his thigh and hooked that leg over Yuuri’s shoulder, using the freed hand to finally touch his cock. He stroked himself in time to Yuuri’s thrusts, writhing at the new waves of pleasure that slammed though him, the movement pulling a high-pitched shout from Yuuri.

“Close,” Viktor forced through his teeth, feeling the telltale coil of heat in his gut.

Yuuri didn’t respond except to fuck Viktor harder, snapping his hips to Viktor’s with wet, slapping sounds that had his hand moving faster on his cock, jerking hard and fast and desperate until he hurled past the edge with an explosion of red-hot pleasure.

Yuuri fucked him through it, his pace picking up as Viktor’s come splashed over them both.

“Easy, easy,” Viktor choked out, sounding as wrecked as he felt, and Yuuri slowed, easing just as Viktor as asked until he was barely even moving, just staying there inside Viktor, buried to the hilt and _grinding_ into him.

It was ridiculously hot, and even with his dick limp against his stomach, Viktor was helpless against the fresh arousal that crept through his veins.

He grabbed Yuuri’s face and pulled him down, leaning up to kiss him. It made Yuuri push an impossible centimeter deeper, and Viktor’s moan was lost in the depths of Yuuri’s mouth. Yuuri let Viktor kiss him nice and deep, lips slack and eyes hazy. His hips moved in minuscule thrusts, pulling matching cries out of them both.

Yuuri came like that, and Viktor felt it from the twitch of his cock to his full body shudder to the ragged groan that Viktor licked off his lips.

After, Yuuri slid out of him, slow and gentle, and paused long enough to pull off the condom and drop it in the waste bin before collapsing near Viktor.

 _What a gentleman_ , he thought fondly.

Maybe a little too fondly.

“You’ll stay the night, yes?” he asked, trying and mostly failing not to let his hope show.

Yuuri, with great apparent effort, removed his face from where it was plastered to Viktor’s mattress and looked at him.

Once again, there was a change in him. Gone was the confident sex god who’d fucked Viktor until he saw stars and in his place was the soft, nervous thing that made Viktor burn to cuddle him close and never let go.

“If you want me to…?” Yuuri trailed off uncertainly.

Viktor was half-afraid he broke something with his vigorous nodding. But Yuuri’s smile, slow and bright, was so happy, so relieved that he wouldn’t regret it even if he had.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I looked up actual gold tattoos, but tragically, they aren’t a thing though there are some temporary ones you can wear on your skin for a few days. So Viktor gets a pale yellowish one instead.


	2. it was a one night stand (till i woke up next to you )

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Beds are for the weak, we fuck in the kitchen like men._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The terrible, terrible chapter summary is dedicated to Cady who's an unrepentant enabler. I love you anyway.
> 
> And guys, guys! The feedback to the first chapter blew me away. Thank you so much! And I love how the majority of you are so suspicious about Yuuri’s humanity.

Viktor woke to an eyeful of dark hair.

His morning brain was sluggish enough that it took him a while to recall last night’s events; Chris and the bar, seeing Yuuri, his foolish presumption, and the delightful end to the night.

The grin that stretched his lips was probably premature. Yuuri wasn’t necessarily different from any of his previous one night stands. But he couldn’t help it. There had been something special about last night; a gentleness to their quiet companionship and the heat that had built between them.

It probably wouldn’t become anything else, no matter how sweetly Viktor’s heart ached at the sight and feel of Yuuri in his arms. But just for a while, he could indulge in hope.

Viktor sighed, nuzzling into Yuuri’s hair. The man in his arms was unresponsive, and Viktor could hear his deep, peaceful breaths. Viktor was scared to move too much and disrupt Yuuri’s sleep, but he couldn’t help but hold Yuuri a little tighter. He was soft against Viktor, the force and strength that had held him open and fucked him hard having gentled into smooth rolls of flesh. Viktor ran his palm up the swell of Yuuri’s belly, squeezing fondly.

Yuuri didn’t stir, but his next exhale sounded distinctly pleased.

Viktor giggled softly, happier than he had any right to be.

He would have loved to stay in bed until Yuuri woke and maybe coax him into another round before reality slapped them both in the face. Viktor didn’t want to have to think about that yet.

But his back had other ideas. He’d known he’d regret last night’s exertion in the morning, but he was still irked when the discomfort kept growing until he couldn’t ignore it and eventually forced him to get up. It wasn’t anything debilitating. Viktor hadn’t been a hunter for this long without developing a nice, big threshold for pain. But he had also learned the hard way that taking meds and resting properly would save him quite a lot of trouble later on.

This was thankfully manageable by generic painkillers. A glass of orange juice and a paracetamol later, Viktor returned to the bedroom and found Yuuri still soundly asleep.

The sleeping beauty remained as such through a nice, long soak and other morning rituals. It was nearly nine by the time Viktor emerged in a fluffy bathrobe and artfully styled wet hair, only for the effect to be utterly wasted.

The strangest thing was that he didn’t even mind. Yuuri, now on Viktor’s side of the bed with his face buried in his pillow, was too adorable not to be admired. And admire Viktor did, sitting by the edge of the bed to watch Yuuri closely.

Somehow, he seemed even prettier now than he had last night. Maybe it was the morning light, filtered by Viktor’s pale blue curtains, casting ethereal shadows on his face. But Viktor was inclined to think that Yuuri was just naturally gorgeous. It made him feel a little better about going on about sex demons to Chris last night. Everyone – well, every hunter at least – knew that sex fiends were inhumanly beautiful. Viktor could be excused for that little bit of drunken idiocy.

It was a while before he could pry himself away. Only the awareness that there was only so long he could watch a sleeping man before it became creepy, especially when he’d only known the man in question for one night, prompted Viktor to leave the bed and Yuuri.

Clothing himself took a great deal of deliberation. He could go with a pair of sweats and leave himself bare-chested, cozy _and_ seductive. Or he could just wrap into a silk robe and let it slip creatively whenever needed. Both methods had served him well in the past.

In the end, he ended up in just a lacy black thong because Yuuri was special and deserved to have the big guns brought out.

He hoped he didn’t come off as desperate, but he was betting his ass cheeks would distract Yuuri from that line of thought.

Breakfast was blini, made with more care than Viktor would employ if he were cooking just for himself. In the back of his mind, he was uncomfortably aware that Yuuri could choose to leave the moment he woke up. And it wasn’t like Viktor made a habit of cooking for people he spent the night with. But he wanted Yuuri to stay a while and if that involved tempting him with food, then so be it. Besides, Viktor needed something to keep him busy while he waited for Yuuri to wake lest he–

“Hi.”

Viktor jumped, spatula falling to the floor with a clunk.

He whirled around, heart in his throat, and found Yuuri standing nervously by the kitchen door.

“Sorry!” Yuuri exclaimed, taking a half-step into the kitchen and then pausing. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s fine!” Viktor hurried to assure him, the effect somewhat ruined by the gasp in his voice. “I was just making breakfast. Join me?”

He finished the offer in a rush and had to fight to hold off a wince. He was pretty sure he was usually smoother than this with cute boys, but maybe he shouldn’t expect much from himself when his first hare-brained reaction to Yuuri was to think him a demon.

By some miracle, Yuuri didn’t hightail it out the door.

Instead, he stepped inside, still visibly hesitant.

Viktor drank in the sight of him. Yuuri was in last night’s clothes, now all wrinkled. His hair was a wild mess, there was a pretty blush on his cheeks, and basically everything about him screamed that he’d been thoroughly laid last night. Viktor bit him lip to hide a grin, but mostly failed judging by the widening of Yuuri’s eyes and the deepening of his flush.

“Uh, I…you don’t have to,” Yuuri told him, shifting on his feet. “I could just leave.”

“Please,” Viktor said. “I offer freely and gladly.”

Yuuri looked surprised, and also, if Viktor dared to hope, pleased.

“I’d like it if you stayed,” Viktor added, letting his sincerity show in his voice while hiding how deep it went. He really didn’t want to scare Yuuri off.

The ensuing pause was awkward and a little uncomfortable, but then Yuuri nodded and took a few steps towards Viktor.

Viktor beamed.

Yuuri blinked rapidly. The skin on his face seemed to have permanently turned red. Viktor suspected that he wasn’t much better off.

The best part was when Yuuri, previously having had his view of Viktor’s lower half blocked by the dining table, caught sight of the whole of him and made a sound that was somewhere between a whine and a whimper.

Viktor turned away to hide his smug smile.

He bent to pick up the spatula, and this time, Yuuri’s reaction was a low curse accompanied by a loud crash.

Viktor turned around to see Yuuri flat on his ass with a dazed look on his face. One of Viktor’s chairs lay beside him. It was clear he’d tripped, and Viktor’s smugness morphed into alarm as he hurried over to Yuuri.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, yes, oh my god, I’m so sorry,” Yuuri babbled, flailing his arms in a way that actively fought against Viktor’s efforts to help him up.

“Don’t be,” Viktor told him, a little high-pitched. “My fault, really.”

Yuuri didn’t ask him how him tripping was Viktor’s fault, but judging by the way his gaze flickered between each part of Viktor’s mostly bare body, he either had a very good idea or was too preoccupied to wonder.

Finally, Viktor helped him up. And if he stood closer than polite, touched Yuuri more than necessary, it was just some extra caution. Yuuri certainly didn’t look like he minded. He even leaned into Viktor for a precious moment before he pulled back with a jerk.

“Should I change?” Viktor asked once Yuuri was seated on the same chair that he’d fallen over. “I can, if it’s bothering you.”

Yuuri’s answer was slow in coming. Viktor stared very intently at the drywall.

“No,” Yuuri murmured. “This is fine.”

There was a silky quality to his voice that reminded Viktor of being spread open and taken, Yuuri’s eyes narrowed and heated as he pressed deep into Viktor. It affected him now as much as it had last night, spreading fire from his cheeks to his cock as he slowly dragged his gaze over to Yuuri.

For a moment, something simmered between them, and then Yuuri’s eyes widened and he raised his arms as if in defense of himself.

“I didn’t – I mean, it’s your home. You can wear whatever you want. Or not wear. Um. Yeah.”

Viktor couldn’t help it. He laughed, clutching the table for support as the tension bled out of him with each burst of laughter. Even disappointment at that broken moment couldn’t last when Yuuri looked so earnest and adorable.

“You’re too cute, Yuuri,” Viktor said once he regained his breath.

Yuuri opened his mouth, but it clicked shut without a response. Viktor winked at him and returned to the counter.

“I’ve only started, but this won’t take long, alright?”

When Viktor turned to punctuate the words with another smile, he caught Yuuri hurriedly looking away from his ass.

Delight curled in his chest, accompanied by something far less innocent.

He really did want to feed Yuuri and talk with him over breakfast and get to know him beyond how good he was in bed. But as sweet as that desire was, the lust thrumming through Viktor’s veins was far more insistent. He remembered with crystalline clarity the way Yuuri had filled him up so _well_ last night.

Viktor dropped a spoon, knocking it off the counter with a casual flick of his wrist.

This time, Yuuri gave no audible response to the sight of Viktor bent over, but he could practically feel the eyes on him, trailing fire over every inch of his skin. He didn’t get much done after that, dropping something every other minute and bending down to pick it up. Yuuri remained quiet, but the silence had taken on a sharp edge.

The batter was nearly ready, and Viktor was well on his way to frustrated when the touch came.

It was light, fingers ghosting along his hip as if not to startle him, and Viktor leaned into it with a sigh, relieved beyond measure when Yuuri gripped him tighter.

“Tease,” a low voice rumbled in his ear, warm breath brushing the shell.

“Can you blame me?” Viktor asked. “You’re too hot.”

Yuuri’s laugh was distinctly disbelieving.

“I’m too hot? Have you seen yourself?”

With that, Yuuri pressed the whole length of his body against Viktor’s, letting him feel exactly what the sight of him had done to Yuuri. Viktor pushed away the bowl and took Yuuri’s hand to lead it to the bulge in his thong. The head of his cock peeked out of flimsy fabric and smeared precum along Yuuri’s palm.

“Sweet _hell_ ,” Yuuri whispered, sounding delightfully wrecked.

Viktor wiggled his ass, groaning low in his throat when he felt Yuuri grow harder against him. Yuuri’s other hand slid up his body, hungrily groping Viktor’s abs and chest. His nipple was pinched between thumb and forefinger, the pressure rough and perfect as Yuuri put what he’d learned last night to good use.

“Yes, yes, do that–”

“What?” Yuuri asked innocently. “This?” He tugged at Viktor’s nipple, nail scraping the sensitive skin and making him moan. “Or this?” Fingers circled his cockhead, lightly pulling back the foreskin.

Viktor choked out a curse and let his head fall back, reaching back to wind an arm around Yuuri’s neck.

A hot mouth pressed against his throat, sucking wet kisses along the length of it. Viktor arched into the touch and closed his eyes, panting through the onslaught of sensation.

Yuuri’s hands suddenly ceased their ministrations, and Viktor’s helpless complaint was kissed away by eager lips and a clever tongue that delved right into him, tracing promises in the roof of his mouth.

Viktor groaned in relief when Yuuri tugged down his underwear and freed his cock. He didn’t touch him beyond a quick, teasing stroke, but Viktor was appeased by the urgency with which those hands moved to his ass, grabbing the cheeks and spreading them. Yuuri ground against him, his own cock trapped in his jeans. The rough material rubbed harshly against Viktor’s hole, leaving him clenching around nothing.

He broke their kiss, panting hotly.

“Come on,” he pressed to Yuuri’s mouth. “Why are you waiting?”

Yuuri’s answer was a finger sliding into Viktor, burying itself to the first knuckle. Viktor tightened around it, then forced himself to relax, pushing back to take it in fully. There wasn’t much resistance. Viktor hadn’t been idle in the shower, feeling just a little presumptuous but even more hopeful. And now, Yuuri didn’t let him down.

“Oh,” Yuuri breathed. Viktor could see his eyes flutter closed. He had unfairly long lashes. “Viktor, you–”

He cut off, but Viktor felt the shiver that shook his body.

“Fuck me already,” he told Yuuri, more playful than impatient.

“We need stuff,” Yuuri replied, painfully logical.

“You know where it is, don’t you?”

“We could just move to the bedroom.”

“We could,” Viktor agreed and stayed just where he was.

Yuuri got the hint pretty quickly because he was gone in the next breath, leaving Viktor achingly alone. He looked over his shoulder just in time to see Yuuri disappear from his sight, his gait rather wobbly. It made him smile, amused and more than a little proud.

Yuuri’s departure seemed to make his erection even more insistent. Viktor curled a hand around his length and pumped, keeping it slow and firm. He pressed his thumb against that spot under the head that made him hiss, watching with half-lidded eyes as more fluid beaded at the tip. Yuuri better hurry. Viktor wasn’t the most patient man.

Then again, he was willing to be patient for Yuuri. He had a feeling it would be worth it.

Yuuri was back in record time, and Viktor saw with delight that he’d had the foresight to strip. He didn’t have much time to enjoy the view before Yuuri was on him, dumping the lube and condom on the counter near Viktor before slotting back to place behind him. Viktor happily leaned back into him, even letting go of his dick to grab the lube and squeeze a generous dollop into Yuuri’s waiting hand.

They didn’t talk as Yuuri opened him up. Viktor breathed heavily, moaning his appreciation whenever Yuuri’s fingers grazed that perfect spot that made electricity sizzle up his spine. And Yuuri was silent and intent, forehead resting on Viktor’s back as he set about his task with a devotion that had Viktor a needy, sweaty mess within a matter of minutes.

“Enough, enough,” he gasped, stretched wide around three fingers and desperate for more. “You cock, Yuuri, I need your–”

“Just a bit more,” Yuuri told him, voice gone deep and rough in a way that travelled straight to Viktor’s gut. “Let me, yeah?”

And Viktor couldn’t say no to that, not when Yuuri asked like he knew the answer would be yes, and followed it up with a clever twist of his fingers that had Viktor bowing his back and wheezing a curse, biting his lips bloody when Yuuri did it again and again, going deep with each thrust and mercilessly assaulting his prostate when he withdrew.  He kept it up, fast and hard, then slow and sweet, always devastating.

In some far corner of his mind that wasn’t begging to be fucked into next week, Viktor realized that no matter how things proceeded from here, he would forever remember this beautiful, paradoxical man that stumbled over his name one moment and turned him into a wanton wreck the next.

Viktor was a hairbreadth away from begging when Yuuri pulled out his fingers and replaced them with the head of his cock. He teased again, sliding the thick length between Viktor’s cheeks, slick with lube and making wet noises with each maddening thrust. Viktor tried to shift and take into himself, but Yuuri’s hands clamped down on his hips, holding him still and carving bruises into the skin.

Viktor was perversely glad that he’d have something to remember this by.

“Yuuuuri,” he whined, shame as little a concern as always. “You’re being cruel.”

“I’m taking my time,” Yuuri replied, and it was good to hear him sound as frantic as Viktor. “I want to–”

Whatever Yuuri was about to say was lost in the twin moans that escaped them when Yuuri pushed in, just the head of him popping inside Viktor. He blinked stars out of his eyes, braced his hands on the counter, and pushed right back, taking a good half of Yuuri into him in one, smooth move. Yuuri made a broken noise and thrust his hips, bottoming out in a rush that knocked the breath out of Viktor.

They both stilled, loud, irregular breaths joining in an unlikely melody.

Yuuri was the first to move. He pressed his palm to Viktor’s back, applying gentle pressure that was somehow both firm and tentative. Viktor followed without much conscious thought, letting himself be pushed down until his torso was flat to the counter. The cool marble bit into his skin, but even that couldn’t ruin his high, not when the position made Yuuri shift inside him in ways that made him see white.

Viktor brought his arms up to pillow his face and gave himself over to Yuuri.

It was the best decision. Yuuri was done teasing and let it show with his body. He fucked in fast and deep, cock dragging hot and thick along Viktor’s walls. His hands palmed Viktor’s ass appreciatively, squeezing the flesh to the rhythm of his thrusts.

Viktor clung to the counter, muffling his cries on his arm. He could hear Yuuri whisper under his breath, the words a steady torrent that occasionally rose above the sound of flesh on flesh and Viktor’s own moans. He caught his own name amidst unfamiliar words, and he didn’t know what was being said, but the tone, low and hot and urgent, had him tightening around Yuuri, wringing a sweet shout from him.

Suddenly, Yuuri was there, draped over Viktor like a scorching blanket. The pressure pressed him harder against the counter, trapping him between cold marble and Yuuri’s heat. Yuuri’s cock moved inside of him, the new angle only allowing for shallow thrusts, but each one brushed his prostate. Viktor squirmed, turned on beyond measure when that only prompted Yuuri to hold him down.

“A little more,” Yuuri murmured, lips brushing Viktor’s nape. His teeth dug in for a moment, hard enough to sting but not to mark. Viktor shuddered.

His cock hung heavy and untouched between his legs, swaying with the thrusts that rocked his body. Viktor wanted to reach down and jerk himself in time to Yuuri’s thrusts, but he couldn’t move, didn’t really want to move, not when Yuuri had him right where he wanted.

“Yuu–”

He cut off with a groan when Yuuri bit him again, teeth sinking into Viktor’s shoulder. His thrusts grew frenzied; hips snapping quick and hard, pushing his cock deep into Viktor and then deeper until he was coming, body going taut and cock twitching inside the latex. Yuuri’s moan was muffled in Viktor’s flesh, but he felt it anyway, all the way down to his cock.

Yuuri’s mouth left his flesh, and Viktor hissed at the pain, already knowing he’d have one hell of a bruise that would remind him of this, of Yuuri, in him and over him, each time it throbbed.

He was looking forward to it.

Yuuri pulled out of him gently, soothing Viktor with soft, fleeting touches along his back and thighs. Viktor remained as he was for a few seconds, reeling at the gaping emptiness inside him. But then Yuuri was there, hands on Viktor’s shoulder and waist as he pulled him up and around. Viktor was greeted with a kiss and a leg sliding between his thighs, the pressure sweet and far too faint. Viktor rubbed against Yuuri with weak movements, letting himself be held and kissed until Yuuri got his fill.

But all too soon, Yuuri pulled away. He dropped to his knees, peering up at Viktor through his lashes. The look on his face made heat pool in Viktor’s gut.

Viktor stood on trembling legs and stared with his heartbeat thundering in his ears as Yuuri leaned in and licked his cock.

His tongue was hot and wet as it laved Viktor with attention. It dipped into the slit for a generous taste, and Viktor’s strangled moan was smothered under Yuuri’s pleased purr. Yuuri ran his hands along Viktor’s thighs even as he peppered his cock with kitten licks, not leaving an inch untouched.

Viktor was too far gone to even beg, could only brace his body against the counter and watch with eyes that wanted to screw shut as Yuuri made sweet love to his cock.

It was bliss when Yuuri finally took him in, pretty pink lips stretching perfectly around his girth. The sight was obscene, and Viktor’s blood _burned_.

Yuuri worked him with hand and mouth both, tongue swirling around his cockhead while his fingers fondled his balls, the pleasure of it all a relentless assault that tore through the last of Viktor’s restraint and made him cry out his need, Yuuri’s name falling from his lips like a filthy prayer. It only seemed to egg Yuuri on, and he took Viktor deeper and deeper, using his hand on what he couldn’t. His other hand left Viktor’s hand to slid further back, rubbing along his perineum before tracing the wet, swollen edge of his hole.

Viktor was loose and hot from taking Yuuri’s cock, and two fingers slipped into him easily, almost cool against his heated walls. They sought out his prostate with unerring precision, pressing hard in answer to Viktor’s ragged groan.

He didn’t stand a chance after that.

“Close,” he managed to gasp, grasping weakly at Yuuri’s hair. “Please, I’m–”

Yuuri sucked harder, swallowing around Viktor’s cock.

He came down Yuuri’s throat with a shout that rang in his ears, each twitch of his cock echoed in the way his fingers convulsed against the unforgiving marble. The edges dug into his palm, the pain barely registering in the torrent of pleasure that swept through his mind and body.

Yuuri didn’t pull off until Viktor was spent and soft, and then he released him with a wet pop that had Viktor shuddering hard.

It was a struggle not to melt to the floor in a senseless puddle. All he could do was dredge up every last ounce of his willpower to keep himself upright. He couldn’t take his eyes off Yuuri as he wiped his mouth with blatant satisfaction.

Viktor wouldn’t dare judge him for it, not when his mind was still a pile of mush.

“Wow,” he rasped when his voice and mental faculties returned to him. “ _Wow_.”

Well, most of his mental faculties.

Yuuri smiled again, small and pleased.

He stood up but stumbled, collapsing a little on Viktor. He could barely keep himself standing, but he still caught Yuuri instantly, pulling him close. It was impossible not to notice that Yuuri fit well against him, melting against Viktor like he’d been made to be there.

They stayed like that for a while, catching their breath. Viktor let his hand wander lazily over Yuuri’s back, loving the softness of his skin. His fingers snagged on something near his hips, a quick glance showing them to be stretch marks. He was aware of Yuuri tensing against him. But Viktor only continued his awed exploration, kissing Yuuri gently on the temple. After a few seconds, Yuuri relaxed again, but he didn’t sink into Viktor like before.

It wasn’t unexpected when Yuuri stepped away, but Viktor still felt a pang of loss.

“Breakfast?” he offered nonsensically, flushing the next moment.

But Yuuri only smiled, one wider than any Viktor had seen. His eyes even crinkled with it, cuter than he had any right to be.

“Maybe we should clean up first,” Yuuri suggested, looking down at his body. “And put on some clothes. That is, if you…”

He waved a hand at Viktor’s thong discarded on the floor. The used condom lay nearby.

“Yes. I mean, yes, let’s dress. That was really mostly for your benefit.”

He peeked at Yuuri, and was relieved to find him still smiling.

Last night, cleaning up had involved wiping themselves down with one of Viktor’s old T-shirts and awkwardly shifting on the bed until they found a comfortable position. Viktor had been tired enough to fall asleep almost immediately, and he’d done so clinging to Yuuri’s arm like a koala.

Now, things were quieter, less hurried, and strangely companionable.

Viktor stored each moment in his mind hungrily, never forgetting that this was temporary. Soon, he’d be alone again. He’d go to sleep clutching Makka, at least until she tired of his tossing about and left for her own bed. And he’d wake up and shower and eat by himself in an apartment that seemed to grow bigger and emptier by the day.

Something hollow and aching opened up in his chest, but Viktor breathed through it, not letting it show on his face. It would be rude to scare Yuuri with his foolishness.

“Breakfast is still on the table,” Viktor told him once they were both dressed. He’d offered Yuuri his clothes, but they had been turned down almost frantically.

And now, Yuuri was staring intently at him, face not blank but unreadable all the same.

“Really?” he asked quietly.

“Yes. Well, it’s not actually on the table since I didn’t finish cooking it. But yes. If you want to.” He paused, took a breath, and added, “I’d like it if you wanted to.”

Yuuri blinked once, lips parting a little.

Viktor waited, an unnamable sensation prickling across his skin.

“I want to,” Yuuri said in the end, and Viktor felt a weight leave his chest. “But only if you let me help.”

Viktor could only laugh and nod.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d made food with someone. He thought it might have been when he was a teenager living with Yakov and Lilia, back when they were still together. Even then, they’d never been a normal family, and moments of domesticity had been rare.

That he was getting emotional over a virtual stranger offering to cook with him probably said something about him; something unflattering.

But he didn’t feel ashamed about it, not when working alongside Yuuri was fun and relaxing. They weren’t making anything complicated, though it was obvious all the same that Yuuri knew his way around a kitchen.

“My parents run a bed and breakfast,” Yuuri answered when Viktor’s curiosity got the better of him. “I used to help back when I lived with them.”

It was such a little detail, but Viktor curled tight around it, tucking it into a corner of his mind like a treasure.

The rest of the preparation passed in relative silence; the only words exchanged were practical and their touches mostly accidental. Viktor was always sensitive to Yuuri’s presence, unused to having someone in his space, but there was a comfort in it too.

They ate with little fanfare, seated opposite each other on Viktor’s small table. He couldn’t help peeking at Yuuri between bites, mostly catching him with his mouth full and gaze down. Twice, their eyes met and held for a few, charged seconds before they looked away, faces heating.

It was shockingly different from the dull routine his mornings had settled into.

Was it pathetic that something so simple filled him with such warmth? Perhaps. Surely, Yuuri didn’t feel the same way. Viktor couldn’t possibly be anything but a passing encounter to him; a night and morning of fun, nothing more and nothing less.

“That was good,” Yuuri said once they were done. He smiled, mellow and happy, and Viktor’s heart skipped a beat. “You’re a great cook.”

Viktor chuckled; it came out strangely breathless.

“This is nothing, really. I’m glad to hear that though. And you’re a wonderful assistant, Yuuri.”

The pink on Yuuri’s cheeks was utterly precious. Viktor’s hand itched with the need to reach out and touch.

He curled them on his lap and smiled on.

He couldn’t delay anymore after that. Yuuri had to leave.

Viktor escorted him to the door in somber silence. At least it seemed somber to him. Yuuri’s face didn’t give much away, though Viktor imagined he saw a glimmer of regret when he looked at Viktor.

He mutely watched Yuuri smooth down the wrinkles on his shirt and reach for the door, preparing to see him walk out of Viktor’s life and leave behind nothing but fond memories and an ache that was sure to fade.

It wasn’t even that Yuuri was the reason why Viktor was such a mess. Yes, he was beautiful and sweet and fucked Viktor like a dream, but the empty feeling that gaped inside him wasn’t there just because a guy he’d only known for a handful of hours was leaving.

Yuuri wasn’t the cause, nor was he the antidote.

Viktor just had to let him go and let himself forget. Simple. He’d certainly done it before.

Except–

“Wait!”

Yuuri froze with his hand on the knob.

He turned, a question in the delicate furrow of his brows.

Viktor licked his lips, heart hammering.

“I–I’m sorry, this might be presumptuous of me, but…would you like to get coffee sometime? With me?”

Yuuri’s expression could only be described as deer-in-headlights.

Another apology rose to Viktor’s tongue and stuck there, bitter and cloying.

Yuuri spoke first.

“ _Me_?”

It was just that one word, uttered with such emphatic incredulity that it tore Viktor away from his internal tirade against himself.

“Yes? Of course you. I know we don’t really know each other, but I’d like to. If you’ll let me.”

“You’re actually asking me out,” Yuuri said faintly, apparently more to himself than to Viktor.

“I am,” Viktor confirmed anyway, letting some of his hope show.

_Please say yes._

“I’m really not that interesting,” Yuuri said, shaking his head. “You’ll be disappointed.”

Viktor didn’t know what to say to that. He was usually good at saying the right things, but he had been too tired to try lately. And with Yuuri, he’d been a mess from the start; an honest mess.

“I disagree. But I’d hate to pressure you, and if you’d rather leave and never see me again, I’m fi – well, that’s the way these things go, isn’t it? But I really do mean everything I said.”

Yuuri said nothing at first, just stared open-mouthed at Viktor. His eyes glittered behind his glasses.

Viktor met them resolutely.

“Okay,” Yuuri said after several seconds of pregnant silence. “I – yeah, I’d love to get coffee with you.”

Viktor’s mouth curved into a soft-edged heart. Yuuri bit his lips and flushed, but he was smiling too. He never lost that disbelieving tone though, not even after they’d exchanged numbers and set a tentative date for next Sunday.

Viktor could understand how he felt. Yuuri had _agreed_.

It was only a few minutes before Yuuri had to leave again, and this time too, Viktor didn’t let him go quietly. It wasn’t a conscious decision to reach out, and Viktor didn’t even realize what he’d done until his fingers were clutching Yuuri’s sleeve.

“Sorry,” Viktor mumbled, blushing. “This is embarrassing. I’m just glad I met you. And um, I look forward to seeing you.”

That was too much, wasn’t it?

Of course it was, Viktor was always too mu–

The thought cut off at the touch of Yuuri’s lips to his.

The kiss was soft, close-lipped and lingering, devoid of the rush and frenzy that had taken over them last night and this morning. Yuuri’s hands rose to cup his face, and Viktor covered them with his own, infinitely gentle.

His kept his eyes half-open, enchanted by the sight of Yuuri so close.

It was a long time before they parted, and Viktor’s lips were tingling sweetly.

“Oh,” he breathed, robbed of words.

“I am too,” Yuuri told him, smiling shyly. “All of that. I feel it too. So, yes. Sunday.”

“Sunday,” Viktor agreed, pleasantly dazed.

This time, when Yuuri left, Viktor didn’t stop him. He did watch as Yuuri walked down the hallway. At the stairs, he stopped and turned to look at Viktor. One hand rose in a little wave.

Viktor waved back, grinning uncontrollably.

And then he was gone, leaving behind only the echoes of his footsteps.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come yell at me in the comments ;)


	3. you're the ultimate high (that i'm tripping on)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How to woo your man with dog pictures.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has embedded images in the form of texts between Yuuri and Viktor. I tried to use the little details - like timestamps and Yuuri's name entered - to convey and tone of them better. Hope you'll enjoy it!
> 
> Also, the story summary has changed, though the beginning remains the same. The first one was no longer suitable and the current one wouldn't have been a good fit for the last two chapters.
> 
> Sex-specific tags: Phone sex

Viktor practically skipped on his way to Yakov’s.

It got him a few odd glances, most of which turned appreciative when they got a good look at him. Viktor smirked and winked in return. He’d been well aware of his appearance since he was a teenager and had taken moderate pains to maintain it, but now, with the number of the most beautiful man he’d ever seen on his phone and a date arranged for the weekend, it was good to have assurance that he was pretty enough to warrant Yuuri’s attention. Until he could charm Yuuri in other ways, it’d do.

At the door, Yakov took one look at him, threw up his hands, and stalked back inside.

Viktor didn’t have time to do more that blink bemusedly at him before he was tackled to the ground by a panting bundle of fur and affection.

“Makka!”

“Woof!”

He hugged her tight and let her slobber all over his face, laughing as she greeted him as if they’d been separated for weeks rather than one night.

“Precious girl,” he crooned, rubbing her ears. “Did you miss me, Makka? I missed you.”

“For God’s sake, Vitya, get off the ground and get inside,” Yakov yelled from inside. Either he had gained the ability to see through walls, or he just knew Viktor that well. Considering how long the old man had been suffering his existence, Viktor was assuming the latter.

“C’mon, let’s go to your grumpy grandpa over there,” he told Makkachin, punctuating the words with a kiss to her wet nose.

She let him up with one last lick and bounced alongside him as he went inside.

Yakov was in the kitchen fussing over a pot of tea. He spared Viktor a baleful glance when he sat on the counter.

“You’re ridiculous,” Yakov grumbled. “You and your dog both.”

“I don’t know why you’re surprised,” Viktor said mildly, not pointing out that Yakov spoiled Makkachin beyond belief whenever she stayed over. He most certainly wasn’t going to say that he did much the same to Viktor whenever he could get away with it.

Case in point–

“How’s your back?” Yakov asked as Viktor had known he would.

“Just fine!”

Yakov gave him a Look.

“Better,” Viktor amended. “Still not worth three days of leave.”

Yakov had the special ability to make the frustrated rubbing of his brow appear grand and grave.

“Vitya,” he said slowly, as if speaking to a particularly obstinate child. “You were _thrown_ into a brick _wall_. A fact you handily forgot to mention in you report, and I would never have known if not for Gerogi. You’re lucky I didn’t drag you to a hospital.”

“It’s Georgi!” Viktor protested. “You know he exaggerates.”

“I shouldn’t even have to force you to seek medical attention, Vitya,” Yakov continued as if he hadn’t heard Viktor. “Hell, you don’t even have to go to a hospital. We have our own medic, for all that you seem to forget his existence until you’ve broken something or are bleeding too much to sneak home safely.”

“Come on, Yakov, I’m not that bad.”

Again, Yakov didn’t seem to hear him. Viktor gave in, shut up, and listened with half an ear while Yakov showed his love by damning Viktor’s self-preservation instincts in increasingly colorful terms.

Eventually, they moved to the living room with hot tea and a plate of cookies. Viktor wasn’t particularly hungry, but he nibbled on one while Yakov got it out of his system.

“It really isn’t that bad, Yakov,” he said once it was apparent that Yakov was done and expecting reassurance. “I just ache a bit. Some pills and rest is all I need.”

“The leave is so you can rest, foolish boy.”

Viktor shrugged and didn’t bother arguing. It wasn’t like he couldn’t see that. He just didn’t like it.

“Thanks for taking care of Makka.”

Makkachin perked up at her name and thumped her tail once. She didn’t seem interested in the cookies which was all Viktor needed to see to know that she had wheedled probably half of Yakov’s food from him.

Viktor understood. Makkachin had perfected her puppy dog eyes when she had been, well, a puppy.

“She’s not bad company,” Yakov admitted, sounding as if it hurt him to say as much. “Still a ridiculous creature, but she’s yours so what do I expect.”

Viktor snorted.

There were times he wondered if Yakov was getting lonely in his age. The house seemed duller than when Lilia had lived here, the walls bare of the photos of Lilia’s accolades and the living room gaping with the absence of that huge black armchair Viktor had liked to curl up in as a kid.

It wasn’t like there was much Viktor could do. Most of his interaction with Yakov was at work, and even the rare visits like these inevitably ended up circling back to that once idle topics were exhausted. It always made him acutely aware that he was just like Yakov in that regard; a lone man, growing older by the day, with nothing of importance in his life except a duty that was likely to kill him sooner than later.

At least he had Makkachin.

And today, he had something else too, a pocket of delight tucked safely within his mind.

“Yura will return soon,” Yakov told him after a long pause. “He says he can sense them over larger distances now. It keeps growing, his ability.”

“We already know his mother must have been a strong one. It’s no surprise.”

Yakov just sighed.

“I’d feel better about it if he were more cautious. But he’s even more reckless that you were at his age.”

“I resent that remark. But, well, maybe the training did him some good.”     

Yakov snorted, and this time, Viktor echoed his skepticism.

Yuri was a firecracker. And while their organization’s camps for cambions were big on recognizing limits and personal safety, he had little hope that Yuri would pay much attention to any of it. Then again, it was Lilia supervising him this time, and if anyone could slam some sense into thick, stubborn heads, it was her.

“It’ll be good to have him back anyway,” Viktor mused. “The other sensors loaned out to us have more experience, but they have none of his natural talent.”

Yakov said nothing in response, and they lapsed back into silence.

It was Yakov who broke it several long minutes later.

“Well? Are you going to tell me about it?”

“What?”

Yakov made a familiar scoffing noise, the one that called bullshit without saying as much. He used it a lot with Viktor.

“You’re looking into space and smiling like a clown, Vitya. I doubt it’s because of Makkachin, for all that you dote on the thing.”

“Don’t call her that, Yakov! You’ll hurt her feelings.”

Yakov leveled a flat look at him. Viktor met with it with attempted composure that softened helplessly into a smile that grew and grew until it was an ear-splitting grin.

He honestly hadn’t realized he was being so obvious. Sure, he’d been intermittently thinking about Yuuri all this time, but still.

“I met a guy,” Viktor told Yakov, voice lowered as if imparting a secret. “We’re going out next Sunday.”

He wished it was _this_ Sunday, but then he might not be so cavalier. He had a routine for first dates, and they involved a good few hours spent staring at his closet and twice that freaking out over his receding hairline.

He was twenty-eight. It was too early to go the way of Yakov.

As if sensing his uncharitable thoughts, Yakov scowled. Or maybe it was that Yakov had never grown out of surveying all the boys Viktor dated with the narrow-eyed suspicion of a parent covertly worried about their kid’s virtue. At least he’d never tried to give Viktor The Talk. That dubious honor had fallen to Lilia, and while that had been mildly traumatizing, it hadn’t been too awkward, mostly because Viktor could only sit frozen and wish for death while Lilia droned about dicks and assholes in terrifying detail.

Good times.

“Been a while since you’ve mentioned one of those,” was all Yakov said, tone carefully bland.

“I haven’t been on many of those lately,” Viktor answered because that seemed kinder than saying he and Yakov rarely talked about those kinds of things these days.

Yakov harrumphed, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Might do you some good,” he said grudgingly. “Get out, have fun, all that.”

The irony of Yakov, who’d been married to his work even before he’d married Lilia, telling Viktor to get out wrung a dry chuckle from him. Yakov spared him a scathing glance that said he knew exactly what Viktor was thinking, but he didn’t ask, and Viktor kept his mouth shut.

He relaxed back into the couch, still nibbling on that cookie and watching Makkachin sleep.

The rest of the afternoon passed like that.

 

* * *

 

 

* * *

 

* * *

 

Chris visited on Tuesday, brandishing a bottle of wine as if that was the ticket to Viktor’s home and his affections.

There was a reason they’d been friends for half a decade.

“I hear you’re a free man again,” he said once they were settled in Viktor’s bedroom, wine glasses in hand. Chris was splayed artfully on the bed, balancing his glass daintily between two fingers. He was the very picture of seduction. Viktor was tempted to snap a picture and save it for posterity, but no one he knew would be scandalized or even shocked by it. Chris didn’t really have an ‘Off’ mode. Viktor had had the great misfortune of seeing him flirt with demons while trying to impale them.

“Move over. And _don’t_ spill wine on my freshly laundered sheets.”

Chris sighed but complied, scooting into a half-sitting position against the headboard. Viktor perched on the opposite edge of the bed, sipping the drink. It was good, but that was a guarantee with Chris.

“It’s hardly freedom,” Viktor groused. “Yakov put me on paperwork, Chris.”

“Paperwork is very important, Vitya,” Chris replied, tone so gratingly mollifying that Viktor was sure he was laughing at him.

“Yes, I’m sure you think so. That’s why I’m doing half of yours.”

Chris shrugged, unrepentant.

“Ease up, Vitya. You know Yakov won’t keep you like this for long. You’re the best we have. One of the best we’ve ever had. The higher-ups will assign something to you soon.”

 _They always do,_ remained unsaid.

When Viktor had been younger, that had been a point of pride.

Now, it was something that brought him relief if only because it kept him occupied and left him little free time to contemplate the kind of things that drove him to drink and take home pretty men. Though to be fair, there was nothing to regret about taking Yuuri home. Even if their date turned out to be a disaster, he’d still have the memories of an amazing night and an even better morning to savor.

“Oooooh,” Chris cooed, sitting straighter. His wine sloshed precariously in his glass. “That’s a good smile. What put it there?” And then, because Chris just _knew_ these things, he added, “Or should I ask who put it there?”

Viktor heaved a sigh.

Maybe he needed better friends, but he had too few of them to be picky. And he should have known what he was getting into when he befriended a man who thought death by sex-fiend was the best way to die.

“Are you thinking about the guy from the bar?” Chris asked, waggling his eyebrows.

“Yep.”

Chris blinked and then his grin widened into something positively filthy.

“Really?” he purred. “I should have known something was up when you just texted me eggplant emojis and a thumbs up.”

“Many things were up that night, my friend.”

Chris chuckled, leaning back again. Viktor waited until he drank again before speaking.

“He fucked me _so_ good.”

Chris snorted wine up his nose.

Viktor’s white cotton sheets were a worthy sacrifice for the sight of smooth, unshakeable Christophe Giacometti covered in drink and coughing.

He just watched, smiling serenely as Chris got himself under control.

“Sweet Christ, Viktor, are you trying to kill me?”

“Please, you once called me at four in the morning to wax poetic about how your ex ate you out. You owe me, Giacometti.”

Chris, being Chris, didn’t even have the grace to look abashed.

“He is very good with tongue, and the world needs to know it. It’s all I miss about him to be honest. But really, Viktor, don’t take your grudge out on my windpipe.”

“And here I thought you’d want details.”

Chris did want details. Viktor managed to wrangle his help in changing the sheets, this time going for cheap, dark ones that could take a stain or two. Chris remained patient until they were back in bed, though Viktor could feel his eyes lingering on him.

“Alright, spill. Is he kinky?”

Viktor raised an eyebrow.

“Chris, we were together once. It’s too early to break out the handcuffs.”

Chris laughed, only to stop abruptly. Viktor saw realization dawn on his face, followed by an unholy gleam in his eyes.

“ _Too early_? Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

Viktor shrugged, forcing himself to act far more nonchalant than he felt.

“We’re going out this Sunday. I’ll see how it goes.”

Chris just gaped for a moment before shaking it off with a grin that had Viktor leaning away in self-preservation.

“How good in bed is he if you went and made a date out of a hook up?”

“Very, very good,” Viktor said, deadly serious. “It’s amazing, Chris! He’s so cute and shy when we talk, but he’s a whole other beast in bed.”

“Wow.” Chris whistled. They’d discussed the men and dicks, literal and otherwise, in their life often enough that he knew Viktor’s preferences almost as well as he did. And he knew that Viktor wasn’t prone to exaggeration, not in this. “It’s always the quiet ones.”

“Can you believe he bent me over a counter and then made breakfast with me? He’s a dream, Chris.”

“Well, darling, you know what they say. Get you a man that can do both.”

Yuuri wasn’t his man yet, but the words still made Viktor smile and duck his head to hide the sudden heat on his face.

It was ridiculous, honestly. He wasn’t one to blush and stumble over his words, hadn’t been even when he was young and inexperienced. Charm and composure had always been his weapons of choice.

But Yuuri made his heart beat a little faster, words die on his tongue, and sweat slick his palms. It was different. Exhilarating.

When he raised his head, he found Chris giving him a smile that was a shade too soft for comfort.

“What?” Viktor asked, and it came out more defensive than intended.

Chris just shook his head, still smiling that unsettling smile.

“Nothing.”

“Chris…”

“Really, Viktor. It’s just good to see you like this, that’s all.”

“See me like what?”

Chris looked down at his glass, idly playing around with its stem. His smile was fainter now, almost morose. Viktor didn’t like it any more than the first one.

“Happy, I guess,” Chris said at length. “Excited. I haven’t seen you genuinely enthusiastic about a date in a while.”

“I haven’t even been on a date in a while,” Viktor said dismissively, trying not to let the twisting in his chest show in his voice. “I’m perfectly happy. Yuuri might make me happier, but it’s far too early to tell.”

Viktor thought of the texts they’d shared, the hours they’d spent chatting last night because neither of them could sleep. It was undeniably awkward, both of them fumbling about trying to find a balance in this new, delicate acquaintance. But that was half the thrill. The other half was simply Yuuri; confusing and delightful and making Viktor’s heart skip a beat from the other side of a screen.

He really wanted this to work out.

But he didn’t like that it had been a point of concern to Chris. Viktor was doing fine. What if he hadn’t dated in a while or went on vacation or really done anything outside of work, work, and work? It made sense. Demon hunting wasn’t an easy career, and even the paperwork was exhausting. No one could be happy all the time either, but Viktor was fine. He had Makkachin.

“Tell me more about your guy,” Chris said, pulling Viktor’s attention back to him. Chris was grinning, not the strange soft ones of before, but a toothy smirk Viktor was quite familiar with.

And he was only too glad to oblige.

“His name is Yuuri. And Chris, you won’t _believe_ how adorable he is.”

 

* * *

 

 

* * *

 

 

* * *

 

By Friday, he was back on duty.

It meant sorting through paperwork and training during day and patrolling high risk areas at night. It wasn’t that demons were nocturnal. They were just like people, at least on the outside. The rot was underneath right up to the moment they revealed it, usually to their unsuspecting prey. But both the demons hunting humans and the humans hunting demons preferred to do it under the cover of night. Viktor didn’t look forward to the day that would change.

Viktor hadn’t had trouble focusing on his work since when he was a recently orphaned preteen. And this night was the same, except not really because even as he staked out a seemingly benign two-storey house and kept Chris updated, there was a niggling, half-formed thought at the back of his mind that refused to be ignored.

He still tried valiantly, mostly succeeding except for the few smiles that broke through his composure.

There was no one to see and judge, just the dark interior of his car.

On the drive home, there was no such self-imposed restriction. Viktor’s eyes were on the road, but his mind was on Yuuri.

Their texts had grown friendlier and fonder throughout the week, always retaining that bit of awkward unfamiliarity and cautious distance, but still making considerable progress from the stilted things they had been in the beginning. Makkachin was a huge help with that. Viktor’s chest still tingled when he thought of the pure, unadulterated enthusiasm with which Yuuri had reacted to his girl. Even more wondrous was how Yuuri had proposed a nearby cafe that allowed pets as the venue for their date this Sunday, asking if Viktor would like that with a curious blend of hesitance and eagerness that was obvious even in texts.

Of course Viktor would like that. He would _love_ that.

Sure, he’d had boyfriends who liked Makkachin and dogs in general, but none had displayed enough enthusiasm to match Viktor’s. It felt too good to be true that a man would have a sweet personality, be good in bed, _and_ love dogs as much as Viktor did. No one could be that perfect. Half of Viktor was braced to find some horrifying detail that would kill their budding relationship. But the other half, the one that was excited and nervous and just really wanted Yuuri to like him, overpowered that particular fear.

It was ridiculous to worry about that now anyway. He’d tackle this one date at a time.

It was a little past midnight when Viktor got home, Makkachin greeting him at the door with all her usual enthusiasm.

He was tired, more than he usually was. Returning to full-time work after a few days of rest and another few of avoiding paperwork was probably the cause. By the time he stripped and showered, he was ready to collapse into bed and sleep for a week.

It didn’t quite work out like that.

He had resisted the urge to check his phone in the car, even when the hours stretched on, long and dull and endless. He’d known that if he saw a message from Yuuri, he’d be powerless not to respond and things would escalate from there. That would have been a bad idea. The poor fool who’d called his partner while he was on the clock and got his throat ripped out by a flesh-eater in the middle of it was a rather fresh caution tale.

He had no need to hold back now though, even if it was probably pointless. Yuuri did keep weird hours but a couple of times, he’d fallen asleep before nine and only rose long after Viktor had gone to sleep.

And sure enough, when he opened his phone, he was greeted with: _Good night, Viktor. Sweet dreams_.

Viktor’s lips twitched up. Sweet dreams. He was sure to have them.

Still, disappointment twinged in him as he tapped out an appropriate response decorated liberally with heart emojis.

It was a pity. He’d wanted to talk to Yuuri at least once before their date. He wanted to hear his voice and make sure that his memory did it justice. There was tomorrow though, and maybe Viktor could try it in the morning, ask Yuuri to–

His phone pinged.

It was Yuuri. He’d sent the gif of a puppy with sparkling hearts that burst into shimmery gold as a text bubble wished him good night. It was honestly too cute, both the image and that Yuuri had sent it.

Viktor pressed a hand to his mouth, right over his helpless smile.

He was tapping out a greeting before he could stop himself. Exhaustion still dragged at his limbs, but his mind felt all too awake.

Yuuri responded, asking how Viktor’s day had been. Viktor sank into bed and settled in for a long conversation.

It was several minutes’ worth of texting later that he found an opening – and the courage – to ask what he’d been wanting to since last week.

_Can I call you?_

The answer took a long time to arrive, long enough that Viktor felt restless from nerves.

Had he pushed too much?

_Yes._

It was simple permission. Viktor stared at it for a few seconds, waiting to see if Yuuri would add something. Maybe he didn’t want to talk now. It was late, and Viktor had kind of sprung that on him, but in the end, nothing joined that three-letter word. The screen seemed to be waiting.

And so Viktor called, with sweating palms and a racing heart.

Yuuri picked up after the first ring.

“Hello,” he said, and Viktor didn’t know if he was imagining it or if Yuuri really sounded as breathless as Viktor felt.

“Hey,” he greeted, clutching the phone tight. “Yuuri.”

“Hi, Viktor.”

Viktor swallowed.

Yuuri’s voice sounded different on the phone, but it was recognizable; low, trembling, with the barest trace of an accent that caressed the syllables of Viktor’s name in unique, thrilling ways.

“Yuuri,” he said again because he had no other words. Yuuri’s answering laugh was high and nervous.

“This is a little awkward, isn’t it?” Viktor asked, covering his face to hide a blush that no one would see.

“Sorry,” Yuuri replied, sounding genuinely contrite.

“Why?” Viktor asked with his own burst of laughter, a little higher pitched than usual. “It’s not your fault.”

“I guess,” Yuuri said, and the words were familiar but the voice was not, and Viktor had to take a moment to close his eyes and remind himself that he was talking to the same man to whom he’d been sending the silliest pictures he had of Makkachin.

“It’s good to hear your voice again,” Viktor told him. He imagined it came out quite smooth. “I was scared I’d forgotten it.”

On the other side, Yuuri’s breath hitched.

Warmth pooled in Viktor’s gut.

“Had you?” Yuuri asked, quieter.

“No. How could I? It’s very memorable.”

This time, Yuuri’s laugh held a note of amusement. Viktor found himself holding his breath and closing his eyes as the sound washed over him.

“I’m glad you think so,” Yuuri told him, still chucking.

Viktor squirmed around.

He didn’t even realize a hand had crept down his torso until it was dangerously close to his cock.

He was naked as he always was when he slept, but for once, he was regretting it. Their conversation had barely begun and was innocent, but he was still painfully aware of how good Yuuri sounded and how easy it would be to just slide his hand down an inch and–

“Viktor?” Yuuri called softly, and Viktor froze guiltily.

“Ah, yeah, yes, Yuuri. I’m here.”

He wasn’t even hard. But he could get there, easily, and that awareness sat heavily in his gut.

“Are you…okay?”

“I – yes.”

Viktor felt bad for lying to him, but he couldn’t say the truth, could he? What would Yuuri think?

“Viktor…”

Yuuri probably didn’t mean to do it. No, Viktor was sure he didn’t mean to do it. But the way his voice dipped with Viktor’s name, the throaty timber of it, tore a loud, shuddering exhale from him.

There was a beat of silence.

“Viktor?”

There was still a question in Yuuri’s voice, urgent and – and not _knowing_ , not really, but something like it.

Viktor spilled the truth.

“I keep thinking of when you were here. Your voice, it’s – I’m sorry.”

He closed his eyes, one hand gripping the phone tight while the other dug blunt nails into his belly. Yuuri was quiet.

And then he wasn’t.

“Viktor,” he murmured, tone unreadable. “Viktor, are you–”

Yuuri didn’t finish, but he didn’t need to.

“No,” Viktor rushed to reply.

“Do you want to?”

Yuuri sounded uncertain, maybe as much as Viktor felt, but there was a suggestion of more in his voice, a hint of the same heat that had dripped from his voice when he’d laid Viktor out and blew his mind.

Viktor breathed deep and answered honestly.

“Yes.”

“Oh,” Yuuri whispered. “I do too, you know. Think about when I was there with you. I do it a lot.”

Viktor shivered lightly. His hand closed the scant distance to his dick, not quite gripping, just cupping the slowly hardening length with his palm.

“Yuuri, can I – would you–”

“I don’t mind,” Yuuri said quickly. “I mean I – I’d like that.”

In spite of the tension pulling his muscles taut, Viktor chuckled.

“You too?”

There were no words in response, but there was the rustle of someone moving and the sound of Yuuri’s ragged exhale.

Viktor imagined Yuuri splayed in his own bed, cock in hand and Viktor’s voice at his ear. He wondered if he was naked, bared and beautiful like in Viktor’s vivid memories, or if he was still dressed, pants shoved down to free his cock. He couldn’t decide which was better. Both images sent liquid desire shooting down his body, making his fingers curl around himself and stroke, slow and light, an unwitting tease.

He listened intently for any sign of what Yuuri was doing. Only uneven breathing answered.

“Yuuri?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you touching yourself?”

Yuuri made a sound that was half-yelp, half-moan.

“I – uh – yeah. Yeah.”

“Me too,” Viktor told him, swiping his thumb along the head. “God, me too.”

Then it was quiet again. Viktor let his mind form the image of Yuuri on the other side, as nervous and needy as Viktor, ear pressed to the phone in unspoken want.

But Yuuri’s want didn’t remain unspoken for long.

“Viktor?”

“Yuuri.”

“Please…say something.”

Viktor huffed a little laugh that came out more like a shuddering sigh. He understood because he wanted more too, needed it. The ache of his cock, half-hard in his hand, demanded more.

He shifted around a little, drawing up a leg and spreading the other wider. Words seemed trapped in his throat, full and frantic for freedom but stuck. He fisted his cock and thought of Yuuri’s hand over his, fingers slotting in between Viktor’s as they stroked in a slow, faltering rhythm. His hand sped up.

“I keep thinking of you, Yuuri. It drives me crazy. You were so good that night. Your hands on me and your mouth. Fuck, your mouth, it’s – you don’t know how many times I’ve jerked off to the memory of you on your knees for me.”

He stopped, swallowing fitfully. His own breaths echoed in the room, and he knew Yuuri could hear him loud and clear.

“Keep going,” Yuuri said, and Viktor did.

“I did this morning. In the shower. I didn’t mean to. But you wished me good morning, and I kept thinking that I’d see you Sunday, and I just couldn’t help it. You felt so good, Yuuri, all wet and hot. And your cock, _gods_ , your cock. You don’t know how it fills me up. I was so sore the next day, but all I wanted was for you to fuck me again so I’d never stop aching.”

He could hear Yuuri, his faint gasps and fainter moans, and he stroked himself to the sound of them, spreading precum over his length for that bit of wetness.

“I want you so much,” he whispered, slipping the foreskin back and imagining it was Yuuri’s hand on him. “I want you to fuck me until I can’t walk, Yuuri.”

“Shit,” came the answering hiss. There was sweet, scorching desperation packed into that one curse, and Viktor drank it in like a drowning man. “How can you just–”

Yuuri bit off that sentence, but the groan that followed was worth the loss. Viktor wished he had both hands free, but the one not on his cock was clutching his phone in a death grip, and he was loath to let go.

“Yuu–ri,” he sighed, voice stuttering on the last syllable.

“It feels like a dream,” Yuuri said, nearly too low for Viktor to hear him. He stilled and pressed the phone hard against his hear, straining catch each word and breath. “I can’t stop thinking of you, but sometimes I can’t believe you’re real, that that night happened.”

“Of course I’m real,” Viktor told him. “And that night was so real, I had the bruises to prove it.”

He had, in the shape of Yuuri’s fingerprints on his thighs. He’d pressed his fingers to them while he fucked himself on a toy and imagined dark eyes and dark hair and a honeyed voice whispering filth into his ear.

The Yuuri in his fantasies was smoother, more darkly confident, cutting through to Viktor’s deepest needs, but that was fantasy and this was reality, the latter better if only for the fact that it was here, it was real, and it was happening.

“No, no,” Yuuri insisted, voice rising. “Viktor, you don’t understand. That night, when you came to me, all I could think was that this couldn’t possibly be happening. Even when you were looking over at me… You’re so beautiful. How could you be _real_?”

And that – it was sweet, shockingly so, but it wasn’t exactly sexy. It didn’t make sense that the pleased blush on Viktor’s face was accompanied by a frisson of heat down below.

His hips jerked, fucking into his fist, the grip tightening to better sate the need that thrummed through his veins. It was like Yuuri was here, murmuring these things right into Viktor’s ear, sincere praise that hit him harder than he would ever have imagined. Maybe it was the honesty evident in them, maybe it was the lust still lacing Yuuri’s voice, but whatever it was, it was potent, pulling Viktor closer to the edge with each whispered word.

“It’s better now,” Yuuri continued, seemingly spurred on by how Viktor was panting into the phone. “I’m getting to know you better, and you’re still so pretty, but you’re so nice too. And I – I can’t believe it, Viktor. But I want to. I like you. I like you so much, it’s scary sometimes.”

A twist of his fist near the head, a fast, rough stroke back down, and Viktor was coming, ropes of white splashing his hand and stomach as he gritted his teeth and arched off the bed.

In the aftermath, he was limp on the bed, his own mess cooling on his skin. His heaving breaths cleaved through the resounding silence.

Yuuri said nothing more, but Viktor knew he was listening, knew he himself was painfully obvious no matter how hard he’d tried to be silent.

“Viktor,” Yuuri said softly. “Did you just…?”

“Yeah. Yeah. You made me – yeah.”

He was apparently the kind of sap that would come when a guy he liked mooned over how pretty he was.

“Wow,” Yuuri replied, not mocking but gently awed. Viktor liked to believe he sounded a little pleased too. “That’s good. Very good. I’m glad I could–”

Yuuri cut off with a sharp inhale, and Viktor roused himself from the lethargy of post-orgasmic bliss to finish what he’d started.

“Are you close, Yuuri?”

For a moment, Yuuri just breathed into the phone. Viktor thought he could hear something else, faint and slick and familiar.

“I am,” Yuuri finally told him.

“I can’t wait to get my hands on you again, Yuuri. We’ll take our time, and I’ll learn every inch of your body. I won’t let you out of the bed.”

Yuuri gave a strangled laugh and a whisper of a word that Viktor couldn’t catch.

“I want to suck you off this time. I’m good at that, you know. I’d take all of you in my mouth, until my jaw aches and throat burns. Would you let me, Yuuri? Or would you hold me by the hair and fuck my throat?”

“ _Viktor_.”

“You seem the type. I’d let you, Yuuri. I’d let you do anything you want to me.”

A choked noise and a bitten curse were all he could hear, but it was enough. Viktor listened intently, a lazy smile spreading across his lips at the rise and fall of Yuuri’s breathing.

“Yuuri?”

“Yeah,” Yuuri answered hoarsely. “Fuck, Viktor.”

“Mm, yes, that’s the idea.”

Yuuri wheezed out a laugh, and Viktor joined in with a chuckle of his own.

Down from the high of his arousal, things threatened to be strange and stilted again. Viktor refused to let it.

“It’s not just your body I want, Yuuri. I want that date too. You and me and Makka. I’m so excited to introduce you to her. She’ll love you, I know it.”

“I’ll love her too,” Yuuri replied, soft and tender. “I already do.”

Viktor remembered that morning with Yuuri, the two of them dancing around each other in Viktor’s kitchen.

Quiet conversations and dog pictures. Something like companionship.

And maybe he was getting ahead of himself in wanting all that with Yuuri, but he could dream. He was hurting no one that way; only himself if he weren’t careful.

“I want all that too, Viktor,” Yuuri told him, and he sounded so _fond_.

Viktor’s breath caught.

He closed his eyes, and drifted to the sounds of a hundred imagined conversations.

“Viktor?” Yuuri asked from far away. “Are you asleep?”

“No,” he mumbled, twitching the fingers that had gone slack around the phone. “M’here.”

“Sure you are,” Yuuri said, offensively amused. “Rest now, Viktor. Good night.”

“Sweet dreams, Yuuri,” Viktor whispered, smiling.

The silence lulled him to sleep.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know your thoughts! 
> 
> I apologize for not providing further fodder for the “Is Yuuri human” discussion in this chapter. _Soon._


	4. so it's gonna be forever (or it's gonna go down in flames)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How early is too early to plan a wedding?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic has gotta be the fluffiest thing I've ever written.
> 
> Meanwhile, have a very soft date and ignore the chapter title.

Viktor couldn’t remember the last time he’d been nervous about a date.

In fact, he was reasonably certain that he had never been so worked up over one, except maybe during the glorious, embarrassing high of his first ever crush on one of the initiates in his year. That boy hadn’t survived his first demon, but by then, he and Viktor had been broken up and barely talking to each other. He’d stopped dating his colleagues after that.

He remembered, vaguely, his teenage self thinking that love and sex couldn’t possibly be more terrifying than facing down creatures wearing human skin stretched thinly over their monstrosity. And to be fair, he hadn’t been wrong. But his feelings for none of the men he’d dated had ever evolved beyond lust and affection into genuine love. Heartbreak had always been something he’d inflicted, never intentionally, rather than endured.

It was too early to be considering any of this with Yuuri. But letting his mind wander to old flames – some of which had sputtered and died, others which had raged into an inferno that devoured itself – kept him from fretting over being face to face with a man who made his heart race even from the other side of a phone screen.

Makkachin, precious soul that she was, clearly did not share his jitters. Her response to his cooed statement that they were going to see Yuuri had been an excited, oblivious bark. Viktor wished he could act the same.

It wasn’t that he wasn’t excited; he was, more than he could articulate. Or rather, his attempt to articulate had been a series of exclamation marks and incoherent capslock screaming sent to Chris at six in the morning. The reply had been an unholy array of eggplant emojis. He had terrible friends.

There had been an exchange with Yuuri too, both of them more subdued than usual as they confirmed the time and place.

They were meeting at a little café in walking distance from Viktor’s place. He’d been delighted that Yuuri had chosen the place with Makkachin in mind, but now that the two of them were within sight of the café, Viktor had trouble believing that he really had landed a date with a guy who wanted to see his dog as much he wanted to see Viktor.

He surreptitiously pinched himself. It stung.

“Okay, Makka, we can do this,” he murmured under his breath. Makkachin didn’t even hear him. “Be calm. Be cool. Let’s get our guy.”

The time they’d settled on was three, and Viktor and Makkachin were a good fifteen minutes early. He’d planned it that way, hoping that would give him the time to get settled and gather himself by the time Yuuri arrived.

That plan flew out the window the moment he stepped inside and found a familiar face staring at him from a table near the back.

Viktor didn’t swear, but it was a very close thing. Instead, he straightened with a confidence he did not feel and gave Yuuri a tiny wave and a huge grin. After another moment of wide-eyed shock, it was returned.

That got Viktor moving, Makkachin happily trotting beside him, her leash an unnecessary precaution. Or at least it was unnecessary until they were within five feet of Yuuri and she surged forward.

Only instinct let Viktor tighten his grip on the leash before it was yanked from his hand. He was still pulled along, stumbling forward the few steps it took for Makkachin to reach Yuuri. And then he could only stand and gape as his dog all but crashed into Yuuri, who had, in the last few seconds, slid out of his chair and onto his knees on the floor.

Makkachin’s butt was wriggling as her tail wagged furiously, her body language screaming affection as she braced her paws on Yuuri’s shoulders and licked him to an inch of his life. Yuuri, in turn, had his arms loosely wrapped around her and wasn’t even trying to get away, only giggling delightedly as she gave him an impromptu face wash.

Viktor just continued to stand there, stunned.

It wasn’t that Makkachin wasn’t friendly. She was perfectly well-behaved and never used her puppy-dog eyes for evil. Begging for scraps didn’t count. But she’d never really taken to anyone but Viktor. Georgi, Yuri, Mila, Lilia, and Chris were all greeted with a lazy tail-wag or two and allowed to pet her. Viktor’s ex-lovers had received the same treatment. Yakov got a little more love because she knew she could charm food out of him. But this kind of overwhelming enthusiasm? That was reserved for Viktor and only Viktor.

Not anymore apparently. She was still half on Yuuri, though she had stopped attacking his face.

“Hello there,” Yuuri said, so soft that Viktor had to strain to hear him. “Makkachin!”

She responded to her name by nuzzling his neck. Yuuri was grinning, so wide and happy that Viktor had to do a double take.

“Aren’t you a pretty girl? So pretty. Photos don’t do you justice, sweetheart.”

Makkachin’s tail wagged impossibly faster.

“Wow,” Viktor finally managed to speak. “She likes you. _Really_ likes you.”

Yuuri shot him a smile and then turned back to Makkachin. He looked, for lack of a better word, besotted.

“I adore her, Viktor. She’s perfect.”

“She is,” Viktor told him, forcing himself to sound more casual than he felt.

Yuuri rose with one final hug and a kiss to Makka’s nose, sliding into the chair he’d abandoned. Viktor did the same opposite him, huffing amusedly when Makkachin lay down beside their table, between the two of them. She looked from Yuuri to Viktor and back, tail thumping still.

“I’ve really never seen her greet anyone like that,” Viktor told Yuuri. “Well, anyone who’s not me. You’re special, Yuuri!”

Yuuri’s eyes were on Makkachin and he looked so adorably pleased.

“No, Viktor. She’s the special one.”

Viktor felt like one of those cartoon characters, jolting with an arrow through their heart each time their crush did something cute. His heart should be full of holes now, what with the way it raced and trembled and skipped a beat with Yuuri’s actions.

Their waiter was there soon, smiling and friendly as he took their orders; espresso and a muffin for Yuuri, a milkshake and a sandwich for Viktor.

“I don’t like to drink coffee outside of work,” Viktor said, giving Yuuri a little wink. “I think I hate it, but I do need it.”

Yuuri laughed, and Viktor internally crowed in success.

“Yes, I – oh god, I completely ignored you!”

That non-sequitur had Viktor blinking a little.

“Ah, oh no, Yuuri, don’t worry about that. Watching you with Makka was too cute.”

“But still,” Yuuri protested, grimacing a bit. “It was so rude.”

He was so _sweet_.

“Yuuuuuri,” he called, lingering on the name in a lilting drawl he’d only ever tried with the four walls of his bedroom as witness. Yuuri’s lips parted and he leaned forward a minuscule inch. “It’s not every day I meet men who’d ignore me for my dog.”

“I’m so sor–”

“I love it!” he finished, mouth curving into a heart-shaped smile.

Yuuri blinked, mouth snapping shut.

“Uh. You. What?”

Viktor reached across the table and took Yuuri’s hands in his. It was a struggle to keep his hands steady, but handling very sharp weapons on a daily basis helped in the strangest of ways.

He was grateful to Makkachin for her spirited reaction to Yuuri and for more than one reason. The sight had settled Viktor’s nerves considerably, most of his worries vanishing in the face of the sheer adorableness of that moment. Now, his nervousness was a more manageable undercurrent, making lead weigh down his chest when he took Yuuri’s hands but not stopping him from trying.

Then Yuuri’s fingers closed around his, and Viktor released a subtle sigh.

“Yuuri, I love dogs. _Love_ them. And it’s not every day I meet a kindred spirit.”

“B-But,” Yuuri sputtered. “ _Dogs_. How can anyone not love them?”

Dear God, this man was perfect.

How early was too early to plan a wedding?

Viktor gave himself a mental shake and kept his enthusiasm contained to a gentle squeeze of Yuuri’s hands.

“I know! But the point stands, Yuuri. I can’t possibly be mad when you treated my girl so good. And I think Makka will be very unhappy with me if I walk away now. Right, Makka?”

She just looked at him with her pretty brown eyes for a moment before looking back at Yuuri. Her tail thumped once.

“See?!”

Yuuri was smiling now. It did wonders to his face, and Viktor was tempted to whine that it was unfair for a man so beautiful to become even more gorgeous with just a smile. He wasn’t jealous, but Yuuri did unflattering things to his ability to think and reason.

Viktor cleared his throat, glancing down at their table before he said something stupid.

“And um, I don’t want to walk away anyway. I’m glad to be here, Yuuri.”

He peeked up with a small smile of his own and was immediately arrested by the look Yuuri was giving him. It was the same he’d shot Makkachin, soft and gentle and utterly enamored.

Their food arrived, and Viktor sneaked glances at Yuuri in between nibbling at his sandwich. The third time, he found Yuuri doing the same. The seventh time, neither of them looked away.

“We were talking about coffee,” Yuuri told him, taking a sip of his coffee. “I like it. But I need to drink an insane amount of it to be affected.”

“That sounds troublesome.”

Yuuri gave a little one-shouldered shrug.

“Kind of. I don’t sleep much anyway. I mean, you’ve seen the kind of hours I keep.”

“I won’t judge you for it,” Viktor promised. “That would make me a hypocrite.”

Yuuri grinned, eyes crinkling. Viktor wanted to pluck off his glasses and stare into them forever. But he loved the glasses too. They gave Yuuri a certain severity that did _things_ to Viktor, maybe because he remembered very vividly that Yuuri had had them on when he’d fucked Viktor that night.

With great effort, he steered his thoughts away from the gutter.

He downed half of his milkshake in one go, and winced at the sharp pain in his head.

“Viktor? You okay?”

“Yep,” he ground out. “That was just a little too cold.”

Yuuri looked at his drink and then back at him with a perfectly neutral expression that was probably hiding a laugh. Yeah, Viktor would laugh at himself too. He was almost glad that he’d made such a fool of himself the first time he met Yuuri because this way, the fear that he’d out himself as an utter dork too late into the relationship was milder.

“So, Viktor,” Yuuri said, still carefully not laughing. Viktor appreciated the effort. “What do you do? You never mentioned.”

It hadn’t come up. Yuuri’s painting had, just once, though they hadn’t pursued that either. Yuuri could be rather close-lipped about certain things, and Viktor thought it better not to push too much.

Viktor licked his lips, smiled, and lied.

“I work in private security. It’s my former guardian’s company, and he offered me a place when I finished college.”

Well, maybe it wasn’t _really_ a lie. A lie of omission perhaps.

Yuuri just nodded, but there was curious glint in his eyes.

“You just thought something interesting, didn’t you?” Viktor asked.

And Yuuri _blushed_.

Viktor stared like a man bewitched at the pale pink that swept across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. He wanted desperately to trace its path with his lips.

“Well, I just – I mean I – uhh…” Yuuri trailed off, not quite meeting Viktor’s eyes. Then he bit his lip, blushed a shade brighter, and said, “I just thought that your body made sense now. You’re _ripped_.”

Someone made a strangled noise.

Someone was Viktor. Yuuri whipped his head up, and whatever he saw on Viktor’s face made him slap a hand over his mouth in a vain attempt to smother the snickers that escaped him.

Yuuri laughing and Yuuri blushing were both top tier sights. But Yuuri laughing and blushing? God tier. Viktor was blessed.

“Scarred too,” he felt compelled to add.

Most of them were on his torso, and Yuuri must have seen and felt them when he slept with Viktor. He hadn’t said anything except to linger over Viktor’s tattoo, but a part of Viktor needed to ask anyway. He wasn’t ashamed of his scars – they were proof that he’d survived and made the world a better, safer place. But this was Yuuri, and Viktor wanted to know.

“I noticed,” Yuuri said, a corner of his mouth quirking. “But I was, uh, thoroughly distracted at the time.”

“Yeah?” Viktor asked, smirking.

“Yeah. You’re a very beautiful man.”

And just like that, Viktor was robbed of words. His face heated, probably reddening to match Yuuri’s.

“That’s, um, well. Thank you.”

This time, Yuuri’s smile was distinctly smug even with his own blush still in place. It wasn’t fair. Viktor was going to have a heart attack and die before he could get a second date.

“I don’t care, you know,” Yuuri told him, suddenly very interested in his muffin. “About the scars, I mean. Like I said, you’re very beautiful.”

No, not a heart attack. Viktor was going to melt into a puddle right here and confuse the hell out of Makkachin.

He opened and closed his mouth a few times, not managing anything more than another dying animal sound and a flaming blush.

“Is it dangerous?” Yuuri asked, maybe taking pity on Viktor’s plight. “What you do?”

The questions sobered Viktor up, though the bubbly feeling in his chest lingered.

“Kind of. I’m good at what I do so Yakov sends me on some of the worse ones. It’s not too bad. Yakov’s my boss by the way. He’s family too.”

_What kind of family keeps sending you on dangerous jobs?_

It was a question that Viktor had been asked many times before, always at some later stage in a relationship. His friends were all hunters. They understood. Others didn’t, especially when the truth was dressed up in a kinder lie.

Yuuri might ask it too one day. At the moment, Viktor could only hope that they lasted long enough for it to be an issue.

Now though, Yuuri just hummed quietly. The look on his face wasn’t one of understanding, but it was thoughtful. Noticing Viktor’s stare, he flashed a quick, fleeting smile and directed his attention to his food.

Viktor followed suit.

 

* * *

 

Afterward, they walked.

Yuuri had knelt down on the sidewalk to shower Makkachin with affection once they were out of the café, and she was happy and mellow from the attention, content to follow them even though they walked so very slowly.

Viktor, for his part, just didn’t want the date to end, and as long as Yuuri didn’t complain that they were just walking around aimlessly, he was going to indulge.

They were close enough for their arms to brush with each swing. Viktor’s fingers itched to reach over and twine with Yuuri’s, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. His stomach swooped every time he considered the action, nervous and giddy.

It was strange, wasn’t it, that this afternoon with all its uncertainties was making him so happy?

He shot Yuuri a glance from the corners of his eyes, drinking in the artfully messy fall of his hair and the delicate curve of his jaw.

“You’re so pretty,” he said quietly, but not so quietly that Yuuri didn’t hear.

Dark eyes turned to him, a little wide behind the glasses. Viktor smiled faintly and met that gaze, trying to convey how much he meant it. After all, Yuuri kept saying how beautiful Viktor was, muddling his mind in the sweetest way each time. It was only fair that Viktor returned the favor and voiced the thoughts that haunted his dreams and waking hours.

Katsuki Yuuri was gorgeous. Viktor Nikiforov was smitten. These were the facts.

Yuuri didn’t say anything, but as he turned away and ducked his head, Viktor spied the beginnings of a smile. He took a deep breath, chanted a litany of reassurance in his head, and slipped his arm into Yuuri’s.

It was far bolder than just holding his hand, but as they say; go big or go home.

Yuuri tensed for a moment, and Viktor did the same, ready to withdraw his intruding limb at the first sigh of discomfort. But the next second, Yuuri brushed the fingers of his other hand over the back of Viktor’s hand in gentle, obvious acceptance.

Viktor returned his tiny smile with a blazing grin.

“Today was nice,” Yuuri said. “I’ll be sad when it’s over.”

“It’s not over yet. And well, I don’t want to presume, but if you can stand my company some more, there’s a park nearby. We can go there. And talk and…play with Makka?

“Your company and Makka’s?” Yuuri murmured, hiding a grin under his hand. “How can I possibly resist such temptation?”

“Good,” Viktor said primly, leaning into Yuuri a little. “You shouldn’t.”

They walked in silence, but Viktor was hyperaware of Yuuri from the bulk of his bicep in Viktor’s grip to the softness of his voice as he started humming some unknown melody. Now and then, Yuuri would touch Viktor’s fingers with his other hand, the caress soft and swift, almost as if he was making sure Viktor was there. Unnecessary because Viktor was walking as close as he could to Yuuri without the two of them tripping over each other, but at the same time, he could understand because he was doing the same, sneaking little looks at Yuuri because it seemed a little surreal that this gorgeous man was here with Viktor.

He was _with_ Viktor.

He held on a little tighter and didn’t miss the way Yuuri smiled.

Makkachin was as happy the two of them, her delight evident in her body language. Viktor spent the time he didn’t look at Yuuri watching her prance with a bounce in her steps. He worried about her when he was too tired to indulge in a healthy dose of denial. He’d rescued her when he was sixteen and she was a tiny thing curled up wet and shivering in alley, her mother gone and siblings all dead. That had been twelve years ago. She still seemed as energetic as ever, but there were times when he wondered if that was just him seeing what he wanted to see.

And there were other times like this when he saw her so happy and bouncy and felt ridiculous for ever thinking such morbid things.

He tore his eyes of Makkachin and turned to Yuuri, only to find his eyes already fixed on Viktor. This time, Yuuri didn’t look away. His smile grew fond and warm.

Viktor beamed back.

There were others in the park, though no pets that they could see. Yuuri gently tugged him to an empty bench by the lake, and Viktor followed happily, sitting down beside Yuuri without releasing his arm. Yuuri didn’t seem to mind. Makkachin sat down by their legs, and Yuuri reached for her, scratching her behind the ears until he found _that_ spot that made her eyes droop and head tilt.

“So cute,” Viktor heard Yuuri whisper under his breath.

His cheeks hurt with how much he was smiling.

Soon, Makkachin had her head resting on Yuuri’s thigh, and Viktor would be miffed at the blatant favoritism, but well, he understood. He’d love to put his head on Yuuri’s thighs too – or between them. He wasn’t picky.

He made do with laying with head on Yuuri’s shoulder.

Yuuri didn’t tense this time, but he did make a noise that couldn’t quite pass as the precious nonsense he was cooing at Makkachin. Viktor pretended not to hear it, though there was no stopping the grin splitting his lips.

“Comfortable?” Yuuri asked after a second, the slightest hint of a waver in his voice.

“Very,” Viktor replied, nuzzling Yuuri a little. “Don’t mind me, continue winning my dog over. Though at this rate, you might try to take her home with you.”

Yuuri actually snorted, and Viktor realized he was very far gone because he found that absolutely endearing.

“I don’t know, Viktor. Depends on whether she and you are a package deal.”

“Oh? And what if we are?”

“Then I might have to kidnap her. I can’t feed her and an overgrown puppy at the same time.”

“What overgrown pup – wait. Yuuuuuri!”

Yuuri leaned into Makkachin, laughing into her fur and dislodging Viktor’s head in the process. Viktor watched, trying hard to hold on to his indignation, but physically incapable of not smiling at the adorable sight before him.

“So mean to me,” he mumbled anyway. “To think you only want me for my dog.”

Yuuri was still laughing, but he raised his head from Makkachin’s head, face flushed and happy as he met Viktor’s eyes. Anything else Viktor may have said suddenly died in his throat.

“Can you blame me? She’s beautiful.”

Viktor shook off Yuuri’s spell and twisted his lips into an exaggerated pout.

“Just minutes ago, you said the same about me. What a playboy you are, Yuuri.”

Yuuri meeped, looking almost embarrassed, but there was laughter swimming in his eyes as he held Viktor’s gaze.

“You are. But _poodles_.”

It was instinct to nod sagely and accept that, but Viktor resisted in favor of adding the puppy-dog eyes he’d learned from Makkachin to the pout.

Yuuri blinked, smile slipping and blush brightening.

“Uh, I – both. You’re both beautiful. Very, very beautiful.”

Maybe some people would take offense at being lumped together with their pet, but Viktor was not so weak.

“Thank you,” he said faux-seriously. “Maybe you’re not a poodle-stealing playboy after all.”

“No, no, absolutely not,” Yuuri said in a dazed voice.

Viktor leaned in, lifting his free hand to touch Yuuri’s chin.

“You know how you could make it up to me?”

“How? Yuuri whispered.

“Let us take you home.”

There was a moment of frozen silence when Viktor feared he’d pushed too far. He hadn’t even meant to say it, but it came out anyway, born as much of a need to stay with Yuuri for longer as from the desire to have him in his arms again.

He was about to backtrack, smile, and apologize, when Yuuri spoke.

“Yes,” he said, voice barely a murmur. “I’d like that.”

Viktor couldn’t let his utter relief show on his face, but he beamed brightly, pecking Yuuri on the cheek.

“I’ll make dinner.”

Yuuri snorted again, and the former tension all but vanished.

“You seem determined to feed me whenever we meet. Is this going to be a pattern?”

Viktor carefully didn’t say that Yuuri looked very good putting things in his mouth.

“Well, it’s worked so far so can you blame me for trying?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dare. I’ll help though?”

Yuuri’s tone tilted into a question, but his eyes calmly said Viktor better let him help. And Viktor remembered all too well the quiet ease with which he and Yuuri had made breakfast that one time. It had been the recurring subject of his less steamy fantasies.

“I’d love that.”

Makkachin had lay down at their feet sometime in the conversation, probably tired of her humans not petting her. It left Yuuri’s lap free, but the things Viktor wanted to do to it were not fit for public consumption.

“Have you been here before, Yuuri?” Viktor asked, looking out at the park. There were only a few other people here, all of them quiet and keeping to themselves. Greens and blues stretched out before them, beautiful and calming.

“No,” Yuuri answered. “I knew of it, but I usually spend my days in my studio.”

Ah, yes, Yuuri was a painter. Viktor had kept his curiosity about that contained, but with Yuuri himself providing such a perfect opening, he couldn’t resist.

“You’re a painter.”

“Mm. You remembered.”

“Of course I do! I remember everything you tell me, Yuuri.”

And Yuuri couldn’t possibly know what a novelty that was. Viktor’s memory had been a fickle thing recently. It retained most of the important stuff, those being things that would keep him alive and Makkachin’s feeding times, but little else stuck. He didn’t know most of his colleagues’ names these days, and Yuri had nearly gutted him last year because Viktor forgot his promise to teach him how to use a crossbow.

But everything about Yuuri was crystal clear in his mind. He only hoped it would last.

Viktor had to admit that the small smile Yuuri was giving him, shy but clearly pleased, was a great incentive towards that.

“Care to share some details?”

Yuuri bit his lips, looking way from Viktor. Then, he shrugged.

“It really isn’t anything interesting, but sure. What do you want to know?”

He doubted that claim, if only because literally anything Yuuri said would be fascinating to Viktor.

“What do you paint?”

“A bit of everything. But I like people best.” Yuuri shot him a sideways glance. “Nude art, mostly.”

Viktor’s brain screeched to a halt.

He didn’t even try to hide his shock as he gaped at Yuuri, trying to imagine him, with his sweet face and darting eyes, doing nude drawings.

“Viktor?” Yuuri asked, leaning a little closer so that there were mere inches between their faces.

Viktor really had no excuse for what came out of his mouth next, except that it was Yuuri, and he was so close, and Viktor couldn’t _think_.

“Draw me like one of your French girls.”

Yuuri choked on air.

 

* * *

 

Even an hour later, Yuuri was laughing.

It was low and erratic, silent pauses or mundane conversation interrupted by soft giggling that grew into fits of badly suppressed laughter. Viktor didn’t need to ask why, and for all that it was at his expense, he couldn’t help the way his own mouth twitched up at Yuuri’s humor.

To be fair, he deserved it. Because honestly, what had he been thinking?

Ah, right, he hadn’t been because Yuuri turned his brain to mush.

“You’re never going to let this go, are you?” Viktor asked, leaning against the door to his apartment. They’d climbed the stairs here holding hands and making small talk, but for some reason, Yuuri lost it the moment Viktor had his key out. He was hanging on to the wall for support, back bowed as he pressed a hand to his mouth and laughed and laughed.

Makkachin sat by Viktor, staring curiously between Yuuri and Viktor, probably wondering why they weren’t going inside.

At Viktor’s question, Yuuri straightened and made a valiant attempt to control himself.

“No,” he said, eyes twinkling. “Never.

Viktor sighed.

“I can’t believe–” Yuuri cut off, not finishing what he’d been about to say. He didn’t need to. Viktor could imagine all too well.

He huffed and turned on his heels, bracing a hand on the wall when he almost lost his balance. He felt clumsy, physically and otherwise, but the heat rising to his face was as pleased as it was embarrassed.

But there was no need to let Yuuri know that his teasing was making Viktor…happy. It was weird anyway.

It really was a good thing he’d ruined any and all hope of being seen as smooth and suave the first time he’d met Yuuri. He’d been a disaster, and Yuuri had given him a chance anyway. It was quite a freeing thought. There was no pressure to perform, to be the perfect charmer people expected him to be. Apparently, the best start to a relationship was to mistake a pretty man for a demon. Chris would laugh his ass off if Viktor told him that. Yakov would too, though Viktor had his suspicions on that front. He hadn’t seen the man actually laugh, not even when he was a kid.

Inside, he released Makkachin from her leash, laughing when she made a beeline for her bed. Behind him, the door shut with a quiet click and soft footsteps came closer.

“Finished laughing at me?” Viktor asked, not facing Yuuri despite very much wanting to.

“Maybe,” Yuuri answered, coming close enough that Viktor could feel his warmth at his back. His fought down a shiver when a hand settled on his shoulder. “You’re a ridiculous man, Viktor.”

Yuuri tugged, and Viktor turned with a pout that was only half-feigned this time.

Sure, he was ridiculous, but Yuuri wasn’t supposed to know that yet, or even say it.

Then hands cupped his face, and Viktor forgot to be miffed.

“I like it a lot,” Yuuri told him, and Viktor forgot to breathe too.

“Strange thing to like,” he murmured, raising his hands to rest them on Yuuri’s shoulders.

They were very close, inches between their bodies. A little dip, and he could kiss Yuuri.

So he did.

Yuuri sighed against his lips, kissing back with aching tenderness. Viktor let his eyes close, his entire being narrowing down to the soft warmth of Yuuri’s mouth moving along his. He pulled back with a lingering kiss to the corner of Viktor’s lip, the hands on his face sliding down, one curling around his nape while the other traveled further down to wind around his waist. The simple touch burned through two layers of clothes and sank into Viktor’s skin like a brand.

“I’m a pretty strange guy,” Yuuri said, a hint of a smile around his eyes. “You’ll find out…if you want to stick around.”

“Would you believe me if I say I want it more than I’ve wanted anything in a long time?”

And that – that was too much, too heavy, but Yuuri only hummed, gaze softening. He kissed Viktor, a swift brush of lips that was oddly reassuring. He said nothing, but hope whispered in Viktor’s chest, saying he’d understood.

Viktor shuddered, bit back words he shouldn’t say, and pulled Yuuri hard against his body.

He came easily, melting into Viktor as they resumed where they’d left off. Yuuri’s mouth parted against his, teeth nipping gently at his lip before his tongue soothed the sting. Viktor made a muffled noise and returned the favor, gently catching Yuuri’s lower lip between his. Yuuri held him tighter, fingers pressing harder into the sensitive skin on Viktor’s nape.

“Couch,” Yuuri growled, his other hand twisting in Viktor’s jacket. “Or we’ll be fucking on the floor.”

Viktor moaned, dick throbbing at the image that painted.

But he backed off anyway, Yuuri’s arms falling off him with palpable hesitance. Viktor’s lips tingled, missing Yuuri even in the long minute it took for him to reach the couch, Yuuri never more than a foot away.

The back of his legs hit the couch and he stopped, not that he remained standing for long. Yuuri pushed him down and climbed on top of him, settling on his lap with a look of heated pleasure that should be illegal.

Viktor felt blissfully helpless when firm fingers twisted into his hair and a mouth descended on his roughly, teeth and tongue coaxing him open with more passion that gentleness. Yuuri’s tongue was hot and slick in his mouth, and Viktor slid his own along the flesh, tasting him hungrily, desperately. Yuuri moaned, the hand not in Viktor’s hair clamping down on his arm. Viktor peered at him through half-shut eyes, drinking in the dark sweep of his lashes and the flutter of his lids. He slid his hands down Yuuri’s back, slipping under his shirt to get to bare skin.

Yuuri hissed when Viktor’s palms slid against his back, breaking the kiss for a moment before diving right back in, this time going straight for Viktor’s neck. Viktor tipped his head back, a trembling sigh leaving him when Yuuri latched on to the beat of his pulse and _sucked_ , the barest brush of teeth and wet, hot suction scorching Viktor’s skin. He’d leave a mark, and the thought alone had Viktor squirming, nails digging into Yuuri’s flesh.

Sure enough, there was a telltale look of satisfaction on Yuuri’s face when he ceased his assault and straightened. He raised a hand and thumbed the spot he’d marked, the pressure sending a thrill of pain bolting through Viktor.

“Ah, fuck,” he said softly, tilting his head further back as if inviting more hickeys.

Yuuri didn’t disappoint.

The next one was higher, perilously close to where Viktor couldn’t hide it with any kind of collar, and the images came unbidden, walking into work with the evidence of Yuuri’s lust branded on his skin.

Viktor whined, high and needy, and Yuuri sucked harder.

It ached and throbbed in time to the beat of Viktor’s heart, and he _wanted_.

“Viktor.” Yuuri’s voice was a pleased purr. Viktor’s cock strained against his jeans. “You look so good like this.”

“Fuck,” Viktor said again, tongue struggling to shape coherent words. “Fuck, Yuuri.”

“Mm yes. Let’s.”

The kiss he pressed to Viktor’s lips was wet and filthy, tongues thrusting in a pale parody of sex that still pulled wanton groans out of Viktor’s throat. He tried to grind into Yuuri, desperate for friction, but the angle was all wrong, and his jeans were a prison. He slid his hands out of Yuuri’s shirt, braced them on his back, and flipped them.

Yuuri’s back hit the couch with a dull thud, and Viktor followed, knee almost slipping off the edge as he lowered himself atop Yuuri. He caught himself just in time, and crashed on Yuuri instead, driving the air out of him.

“Oops, sorry, sorry,” he mumbled, silenced the next moment when Yuuri twisted his fingers in Viktor’s hair and yanked him into a kiss.

Viktor went willingly, struggling not to lose himself in Yuuri’s mouth again as he fumbled with their zippers. Yuuri’s got stuck, and Viktor bit a curse on to Yuuri’s chin and _tugged_ , finally shoving their pants down. Underwear was much easier to manage. Yuuri lifted his hips to help Viktor pull his off but never stopped peppering his jaw and throat with gentle kisses and less gentle nips. But even he stopped with a muffled cry that might have been Viktor’s name when Viktor pressed his hips down, grinding their cocks together.

“Vi-Viktor,” Yuuri breathed, eyes squeezed shut. There was a blush high on his cheeks, and Viktor _had_ to press his mouth to it, had to trace the heat of it with his tongue.

Yuuri’s fingers tightened in his hair, the sharp, sweet sting making Viktor jerk his hips in a harsh, aborted movement that tore breathless cries out of them both.

“Please don’t pull any out,” Viktor managed to say, each word a colossal effort. His mind was all heat and sex and Yuuri, writhing under him to the rhythm of Viktor’s thrusts.

Yuuri’s response was to release his grip altogether, and Viktor whined, feeling the absence keenly but unable to summon the coherence to tell Yuuri that yes, he wanted him to pull his hair and pull it hard, just not _too_ hard.

But all complaints fled his mind the next moment because Yuuri’s hands were on his ass, grabbing a rough handful even as he shoved down, pressing Viktor’s hips against Yuuri’s in a hot, dirty grind.

“That’s – Yuuri, shit, I’ll–”

He buried the nonsense spilling from his slack lips against Yuuri’s neck, muffling words and moans around heated flesh as he moved his hips with increasing frenzy. Yuuri matched him in kind, pushing Viktor down even as he jerked up, their cocks hard and wet and rubbing together in perfect, mind-numbing ways.

“Gonna come like this,” Yuuri told him, a whispered warning that Viktor could barely acknowledge. He mumbled something like agreement into Yuuri’s skin and let himself go.

Even as pleasure built and built, raced through his veins and coiled in his gut, it wasn’t until he felt Yuuri shudder and curse and spill against him in a flash of liquid heat that Viktor came, following half a minute behind Yuuri.

His orgasm swept through him, leaving him panting and slumped on top of Yuuri whose chest heaved as he gulped for air, just as shaken as Viktor. There wasn’t enough room on the couch for them to lie together properly, but Viktor managed to squeeze himself in between Yuuri and the back of the couch, arms and legs draped over his lover.

Yuuri turned his head to bury his nose in Viktor’s hair and slid his fingers in between Viktor’s.

Viktor held on to him, smiling helplessly.

“Wow,” Yuuri murmured with the ghost of a laugh in his voice.

“Amazing,” Viktor completed, squeezing Yuuri’s hand.

“It always is with you.”

Viktor didn’t point out that this was only their third time; fourth if they counted the phone sex which had been awkward and fumbling and still brought a rush of heat to Viktor’s face. But no, it did count, precisely because it had been all that and also absolutely wonderful.

“For future reference, you can pull my hair as hard you like. Just be careful not to rip any out. I don’t have much left of it.”

Yuuri was still very much basking in post-coital bliss, but he managed to shake it off enough to give Viktor an incredulous look.

“What? You talk like you’re balding.”

Viktor flinched at the B-word. Yuuri just gaped.

“It’s so short,” Viktor said mournfully. “And thin.”

“Uhh…”

Yuuri seemed to give up on words after a few seconds spent imitating a goldfish. Instead, he slid the hand not holding Viktor’s into his hair, sifting gently through the strands. It was pleasant and soothing, and Viktor couldn’t help how his eyes slid shut.

“It’s not thin at all,” Yuuri said after a while. “And it’s very beautiful. The color too. It’s like starlight.”

Viktor’s heart thumped in his chest. There was a lump in his throat when he tried to speak so he just buried his face in Yuuri’s shoulder and basked in the solidity of him.

It was truly a pity they were clothed. But that reminded him of something else.

“We jumped into bed again. Well, couch. I was going to woo you with dinner and everything.”

Yuuri’s body shook with silent laughter, jolting Viktor.

“You don’t need to woo me, Viktor,” Yuuri said softly. “You already have me.”

No, not really. Not as much as Viktor wanted. But he was greedy and knew it, so he could wait. For now, Yuuri was here and seemed willing to stay.

“Still,” Viktor told him, raising his head to better look at Yuuri. “I don’t want you to think I just want you for your body.”

There was a second when it looked like Yuuri might make a joke, but then a strange look crossed his face; pensive and shadowed.

“I don’t think that,” he said. “You never made me think that, Viktor.”

“Oh,” Viktor breathed, smiling softly. “I’m glad.”

The kiss they shared was slow and lazy, lips barely brushing and eyes wide open.

“We can still make dinner,” Yuuri whispered into the scant space between them. “I’ll help.”

Viktor’s smile didn’t give away the painful longing inside him.

“Yes, Yuuri. We’ll do that.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Talk to me, folks, talk to me.


	5. i laugh about it (dream about that casual touch)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Death by thighs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I hope you’re in for the long haul because this thing is getting kinda long. Over 20 chapters, definitely.

Viktor sighed.

Beside him, Chris muttered something unflattering under his breath that Viktor pretended not to hear.

Minutes crawled by, the room silent except for the rhythmic scratching of pen on paper. Viktor checked the clock and found the time nowhere near what he wanted it to be. He sighed again.

“That’s it,” Chris bit out, shoving the files in front of him to the side and swiveling his chair to face Viktor. “Viktor, I know you hate this part of the job, but it can’t be what’s making you act like your dog disowned you.”

“Makka would _never_ ,” he protested, mirroring Chris’s position. It’s not like he’d been getting any work done anyway.

“Yes, yes, now spill before you drive me crazy. No wonder Yakov booted you out of his office.”

Viktor took offense to that statement. He hadn’t been bothering Yakov, just hanging around ditching paperwork and dreaming about Yuuri, hoping that it would make time go faster. It hadn’t, and Yakov had gently suggested that he leave after thirty minutes or so. Sure, Yakov had done that with the vein in his temple throbbing and enough vitriol in his voice to match Yuri Plisetsky’s default mode, but that was pretty much what counted as gentle for the man.

It wasn’t Viktor’s fault anyway. He hadn’t seen Yuuri since the Sunday before the last, and it was torture. They had been tentatively considering a date for last Saturday, but then Yuuri got an urgent commission and that plan was foiled before it could even begin. And it was just as well too because Viktor had returned home Friday night with three stitches on his left forearm and a bruise the size of a baseball on his shoulder, all courtesy of a very pissed off sex-fiend. Maybe it was the flesh-eaters who were strongest, but nothing could best sex-fiends when it came to sheer viciousness.

While the injuries were still very much visible, they weren’t as bad as they had been a few days ago. He’d still have to lie to Yuuri if questioned, but he was used to that.

Yuuri was coming over tonight for a movie. He’d promised to bring dinner too. And Viktor was under no illusion that either of them would have the self-restraint to keep their hands off each other for long, especially not when their nightly phone calls got more suggestive each day, so it was inevitable that Yuuri would see the faded injuries. The thought of lying to him left a bad taste in Viktor’s mouth, but he had to. There was no choice. And it didn’t diminish his excitement for the night one bit.

It did have the unfortunate side effect of making work all the more tedious. He’d worked overtime on Sunday so he could skip patrol duty today, but he still had to come to the office. He’d spend the morning in the armory, hacking at a dummy to work off the excess energy, but it hadn’t been all that effective and he’d been distracted. Mila had challenged him to a spar and beat him soundly, making cooing noises about old men and injuries while she sat on his back. Afternoon hadn’t been much better either; nothing could make sorting through reports entertaining or even tolerable.

Time seemed to move at a snail-pace, each second an exquisite torment.

“I swear to all the gods,” said Chris, jolting Viktor out of his thoughts. “If you sigh one more time, Nikiforov, I will throw you out of the window.”

“You’d have to lift me first,” Viktor shot back. “We all know how that worked out last time.”

Chris had tried to carry him once when he’d been too drunk to walk straight. The ensuing fall hadn’t sobered him up, but it had left a nice bruise on his ass that had not mixed well with next morning’s hangover.

“I was drunk last time,” Chris defended himself, eyes narrowing dangerously at Viktor’s smirk. “And don’t you distract me. Come on, what’s going on?”

Viktor shrugged, trying for nonchalant and fooling not even himself.

“I have a date tonight. Yuuri’s coming over.”

“Yuuri as in sex demon Yuuri?”

“He’s not a sex demon! Well, not literally…”

“But in bed, yes, so you’ve said. You never told me how the last one went.”

It had been amazing, and Viktor had clung hard to the memories of being tangled up with Yuuri on the couch and then dancing around each other in the kitchen on those nights when his bed felt too cold and his apartment too empty.

“We had coffee, walked Makka, and he came home with me.”

“Makkachin?” Chris’s eyebrow threatened to vanish into his fringe. “You took your dog on your first date?”

Even remembering that had Viktor’s heart feeling too full again.

“Yes! It was Yuuri’s idea. He loves dogs, and Makka _adores_ him, Chris. She took to him so fast. I’d be jealous if I didn’t love it so much.”

Chris blinked, frown fading and a smile taking its place.

“Wow. Sounds like you’ve found your dream man.”

Viktor sure liked to think so. Sometimes, he was afraid to hope, logic screaming that it was too soon, but at other times, all he could think of was how _right_ being with Yuuri felt.

He said nothing to Chris, but the way green eyes softened told him that his answer had shown on his face. The next second, the gentleness was gone and Chris’s grin took a decidedly devious tint.

“Aren’t you glad I dragged you out that Friday, Viktor? You wouldn’t have met your sex demon if you’d been moping at home, would you?”

“Yes, Chris. Thank you, Chris,” Viktor said blandly. “And stop calling him that, people will get the wrong idea.”

“What, that a hunter with one of the highest kill-count ever is screwing a sex-fiend? No one would believe it, not even our little spitfire.”

“Yura will gut you with your own dagger if he hears you calling him that.”

Chris waved a hand, thoroughly unperturbed by Yuri’s infamous temper.

“You know Yuri will be overjoyed when he learns your new boyfriend shares his name.”

Viktor grimaced. Yuri’s reactions to Viktor even having a love life had been less than pleasant from when he was a child. Chris said it was because he thought they were all making Viktor unhappy, but Viktor suspected Yuri just didn’t want to think about his mentor having sex.

“It’s not really the same. They’re pronounced differently.”

“Try telling him that.”

“I’d rather not. You know he’s due to come back any time now.”

“He’ll make this place livelier at least.”

True enough. There weren’t many of them here. Hunters didn’t have large numbers, what with the secrecy and major risk of death and all. Each branch had five or so members, ten if the city was large enough. They were eight here; Yakov, Viktor, Chris, Mila, Sara, Georgi, Otabek, and Yuri. Sara was the newest, having transferred from her old town when her former partner, her brother, became too overbearing. She worked well with Mila. Chris and Viktor, Gerogi and Otabek were the other teams. Yuri would work with them all, a cambion’s powers being too rare to confine him to a single team. Yakov was too old for field work, but managed them all with an efficiency born of experience.

He kept threatening to retire and leave Viktor in charge, but Viktor would much rather throw himself at the mercy of a flesh-eater.

“So, Viktor,” Chris broke into the silence. “When are we meeting your Yuuri?”

“We?”

“Well, you know all of us will want to. Even Yakov. But maybe just me in the beginning.”

Viktor imagined introducing Yuuri to his colleagues and had to hold back a shudder.

“Never,” he said, emphatic.

Chris pouted, effective except for the mischievous glint in his eyes.

“But Viktor, darling, you wouldn’t deprive me of the chance to meet such a gem, would you?”

“I would and with delight,” Viktor replied flatly. “I’m not introducing my boyfriend to a guy whose idea of a friendly greeting involves ass-grabbing.”

Chris didn’t even bother to deny it.

“Well, from what I saw that day, it is a very nice ass.”

Viktor melted a little at the thought of Yuuri’s ass. It was very, _very_ nice, and Viktor ached to bury his face between them.

“It is,” he said dreamily. “And his thighs. God, I want to die with them wrapped around my head.”

“A better fate than being torn up by demons,” Chris answered without missing a beat.

“Definitely. And you’re still not meeting my Yuuri. He’s a private person. You’ll scare him off with your wandering hands.”

Chris’s pout grew more pitiful. Viktor resisted because he was a man who’d raised the most adorable poodle from puppyhood and had practice in this. He was strong and unwavering.

Chris fluttered his lashes and managed to look not too ridiculous doing it.

“I wouldn’t grab his ass until the third meeting at least,” he wheedled,

“You’re not. Yet. Quit it and tell me about your mystery man.”

Chris’s smile was a shade too triumphant for comfort.

“Yakov will have our heads if he knows we’re gossiping instead of working,” Chris informed him cheerfully, as if Yakov pulling out his rusty sword and chasing them around was the stuff of comedies. “And my mystery man has lost his mystery. I wouldn’t say we’re dating, but we’re certainly…something.”

“Booty calls?” Viktor asked because he knew Chris. The grin he got in response confirmed as much.

“Have fun,” he said, eyes flicking back to the clock. For once, it had been more than five minutes since Viktor last checked. Talking with Chris had distracted him well enough, though there was still over an hour to go before he could leave.

“Oh, I will. You know, Viktor–”

The door burst open, and Yuri Plisetsky stalked inside.

Viktor had known he’d return sometime this week, but Yuri had never texted him any specifics and for all that Viktor kept meaning to ask, he’d never remembered. So it was with pure shock that he stared at the figure now looming over his desk.

Yuri had _grown_.

He’d left for the camp last year, a few months after his fifteenth birthday. Viktor had trained him in using a crossbow just before he left, the weapon still favored among their ranks. But that Yuri had been a tiny slip of a thing, even his muscles more like a dancer’s than a warrior’s. Viktor knew better than anyone just how brilliantly Yuri used his size and build to his advantage, but the fact had remained that the first impression he gave had been one of fragility.

Now, nearly a year later, that was not quite the case.

Yuri was taller, maybe even taller than Otabek. He still retained much of his litheness, but there was an aura of compact danger to him now. The most jarring change was his hair. It was no longer cut at his shoulders but fell to his waist in a straight, graceful fall that reminded Viktor of his own youth.

It was still recognizably Yuri Plisetsky but all the changes added up to an image that was altered enough to give Viktor pause.

Then he met Yuri’s eyes and all of a sudden, it was still the same, angry boy he’d watched grow up.

…Wow, that made him sound old.

Chris was the first to recover enough to speak.

“Oh my, look who’s back. You’ve certainly changed. From kitten to…tiger cub, perhaps.”

Viktor fought the urge to slam his face into the desk.

The next moment, he wished he’d covered his ears because Yuri’s shriek was as painfully shrill as ever.

“Shut the fuck up, you bottle blond pervert. Why in hell are you here anyway, this is the old man’s office.”

Viktor’s mouth twitched into a tight smile. If he’d been the kind to be optimistic or a little less familiar with Yuri, he could have blissfully convinced himself that Yuri just mistook Viktor’s office for Yakov’s. But considering Yuri had given him that moniker the day Viktor turned _twenty_ , he didn’t have that luxury.

Liberal insults and angry green eyes – definitely their Yuri. Clearly, a year of demon hunter boot camp hadn’t changed him much.

“Good to have you back, Yura,” Viktor greeted, still smiling. “How was Siberia? Make any friends?”

“Fuck you too, Vitya,” Yuri shot back with a sneer.

It probably said something that this was what passed for affection between them. Viktor would like to say that Yuri had been sweeter as a kid, but no, he’d always been a ball of spite and rage. It had its charm, most of the time.

“I’ll leave you two to bond,” Chris said drily, making his escape.

Viktor let him go with only a sigh.

Yuri needed no invitation to take the chair Chris vacated, though he did take the time to move it farther away from Viktor before he sat. Viktor gathered the papers Chris had been reading through, just in time for Yuri’s feet to thud into the spot where they had been.

“I see you haven’t changed. I don’t know whether that’s a good or a bad thing.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, of course I’ve changed. I’m way stronger now.”

 _Not the kind of change I meant_ , Viktor thought, not bothering to say it out loud.

“When did you land?”

“This morning. Went home, let Potya settle in, napped off the jet lag, and came straight here.”

“Did you see Yakov?”

Yuri shrugged and somehow looked aggressive doing it.

“He’s talking to someone. The retired guy with one arm.”

Josef then. Chris’s old mentor, forced into retirement when a flesh eater chewed through half of his arm before backup could get to him. He visited sometimes. Chris worried about it, but Viktor liked to think that he understood. Anyway, he gave Yakov a pair of willing ears to listen to all his complaints about the ‘youngsters.’

“But he does know you’re here?”

Yuri shrugged again. Viktor had the sinking feeling that he hadn’t in fact bothered to call Yakov like he’d said he would. It was probably a good thing Yakov was with Josef then.

Well, it wasn’t like Yakov really expected any of them to behave like decent human beings and save him hair loss.

“Did you eat lunch, Yura?” Viktor asked, already putting away his work. Over half an hour was left before he could leave, but treating their returning colleague to dinner was a more legitimate reason for ditching paperwork than fretting over his date night.

“No. I told you I slept. Why?”

Viktor turned a bright smile on him. Yuri’s frown grew into a scowl.

“Let’s get some food in you!”

Yuri shot a dubious glance at the clock.

“It’s too early for dinner.”

“It’s past six. Good enough. Plus, I have to leave soon.”

This time, Yuri’s face cleared in understanding.

“Patrols then. Can I come with?”

“No and no. You know Yakov needs to clear you.”

Yuri grumbled, but didn’t protest. The next moment, his gaze narrowed and fell on Viktor.

“Wait, why aren’t you on patrol? Are you injured, old man?”

“Again, no. I have a date! I’d invite you over otherwise.”

Yuri made a face like he’d sucked a lemon.

“Ew, fucking gross.”

“I beg to differ,” Viktor said mildly.

Yuri’s answering glare could have killed a demon.

“ _Asshole_. Like hell do I want to be anywhere near you and some idiot who thinks you’re decent company. Let’s go. You’re buying me pizza.”

Yuri’s stomach punctuated that with a loud growl. Viktor politely smothered a snort and pretended not to see Yuri glaring daggers at him as he cleared his table.

“Come on,” he said, beaming at Yuri.

The answer was an indignant huff, but Yuri wordlessly followed him out the door and let the arm Viktor threw around his shoulders stay for a whole ten seconds.

 

* * *

 

Yuri had been mellower once he'd eaten and had almost dozed off in the car when Viktor drove him home. Viktor didn’t realize how much focusing on Yuri had kept his mind off Yuuri until he was alone in his apartment and restlessly pacing in the living room.

A message had arrived while he’d been in the shower, saying Yuuri would arrive in about fifteen minutes. It was such a short time, but to Viktor, it felt more like fifteen hours. Makkachin seemed equally agitated and had even given an excited bark at Yuuri’s name.

They’d texted and talked nearly every day since their last date. Viktor had accumulated a hoard of precious facts about Yuuri; little things that seemed trivial but lodged in his mind like arrows. His favorite color (blue), favorite food (katsudon which a quick Google search had revealed to be pork cutlet bowls that made Viktor’s mouth water), where he lived (in his studio), when did he sleep (from early morning until afternoon usually), what sort of books did he read (a bit of everything but mostly science fiction)–

There was so much more that Viktor wanted to know, and the fact that he yearned for that so deeply alone told him that it was worth the effort. It helped that Yuuri seemed equally curious about Viktor, at first returning Viktor’s questions in kind before asking his own, hesitant at times but always attentive.

Viktor was helplessly, hopelessly enamored, and Yuuri didn’t even seem aware of it. Then again, that was part of his charm.

The doorbell rang, the sound cutting through the silence of the apartment, and Viktor all but ran to the front door, Makkachin on his heels. He yanked open the door and nearly fell flat on his face when Makkachin slipped between his legs to tackle Yuuri.

Man and dog ended up a heap on the floor, Yuuri bracing himself on his hands as Makka lay over him and licked his face. She was even more enthusiastic than she had been in the café, and Viktor was too busy committing the absolutely adorable sight to memory to try and pry her off Yuuri. It didn’t look like Yuuri would appreciate the intervention anyway, not if the way he was grinning at Makkachin was any indication.

“You do remember me, don’t you, beautiful?”

Viktor thought it was somewhat unfair that his dog earned pet names before he did, but to be fair, Makkachin was quite a beauty. He couldn’t blame Yuuri.

“Of course she does,” Viktor said when Makkachin just continued to slobber all over Yuuri. “She loves you already.”

Yuuri smiled up at him, wide and unfettered, and Viktor’s heart did a little flip.

He stood up, taking care to gently push Makkachin aside so as not to hurt her accidentally. He picked up a while plastic bag from beside the door. Makkachin sniffed at it in interest.

“I’m glad I set this down first,” Yuuri told him as he stepped inside. “Wouldn’t want to ruin dinner.”

“Sorry about Makka. She’s just happy to see you.”

“I’m glad to see her too.” Yuuri smiled faintly, looking up at Viktor from under delicate lashes. “And you.”

Viktor closed the door and stepped towards Yuuri, closer than was polite. Yuuri didn’t stop him or back away, tilting his head to better meet Viktor’s eyes. They were warm and expectant, and there was nothing more natural than closing the distance between them.

Yuuri’s lips brushed his softly, a little chapped and rough and all the more alluring for it. Viktor smiled into the kiss, content just to stand there and breathe in their shared air.

“It’s good to have you here,” Viktor told him without pulling away. “I missed you.”

“It hasn’t been much more than a week,” Yuuri replied. “But I understand.”

“Mmm, do you?”

Yuuri chuckled, his breath falling hot on Viktor’s mouth.

“Yes. You have a very bright presence, Viktor. I’ve grown attached, I think.”

 _I know I have_ , Viktor wanted to say, but the words stuck in his throat, choked by an effervescent mixture of joy and relief. Yuuri didn’t seem to think he was too clingy, at least not yet, and he didn’t want to ruin that.

He backed up reluctantly, taking solace in how Yuuri’s hand lingered on his hip as if unwilling to let go. It was a struggle not to squirm when Yuuri ran his eyes over him. Viktor had showered and spent an inordinate amount of time fixing his hair and choosing his clothes. The wine red sweater looked indecently good on him, the collar dipping low enough to be suggestive. He’s forgone jeans, remembering how hard it had been to get them off last time, but the yoga pants he’d picked did wonderful things to his ass. But under the scrutiny of those lovely eyes, his confidence was matched by his nerves. And the first flicker of arousal was in there too, fanned to life by the light blush that crept up Yuuri’s cheeks.

“Like what you see?” Viktor had to ask.

Yuuri started as if he hadn’t expected to call him out. His expression was one of embarrassment, but his voice was firm when he answered Viktor.

“It’s you,” he said simply, as if that alone was enough.

Viktor practically floated into the kitchen.

“So what’s for dinner?” Viktor asked, setting the table while Yuuri sorted out what he’d bought.

“Katsudon. My mother made it. I helped…mostly by chopping things.” Yuuri flashed him a lopsided grin. “She’s very particular about her kitchen. Probably a good thing. I’d have ruined it.”

“I very much doubt that,” said Viktor, reminded of the deft hand Yuuri had displayed the two times he’d helped Viktor in the kitchen.

Yuuri just shook his head.

“No, really. I’m better at helping or making simple stuff. I’m out of practice too.”

“Don’t you cook for yourself? You live alone, don’t you?”

Yuuri didn’t respond immediately. He busied himself with serving the food, and Viktor went to help, trying not to drool when the truly heavenly scent of the katsudon assaulted his nostrils. He’d looked up the dish on the internet after Yuuri mentioned it, and it had looked delicious. But that hadn’t prepared him for this.

“If that tastes as good as it smells, I will _die_ ,” he said with perfect seriousness.

He expected Yuuri to laugh but what he got was a fervent nod.

“You will,” Yuuri promised him. “And you’ll like it.”

Well then.

Five minutes later, a shrill _Vkusno_! echoed around the apartment.

“I have no idea what that means, but I agree,” Yuuri told him, gazing at his own bowl with an expression of pure rapture. It wasn’t an expression often given to food, but in this case, Viktor could understand, though he’d have thought that Yuuri would have built up some immunity given that he’d been eating this since he was a kid.

He asked as much and got an almost indignant look in return.

“You don’t simply get used to katsudon, Viktor,” he said gravely. “And I’d eat this every day if I could.”

Viktor felt like he should be a little jealous of food. Then again, the next bite was enough to convince of the futility of that rivalry. Viktor would happily offer himself to be eaten by Yuuri, but he couldn’t possibly beat this.

“Can you make it?” he asked, partly to distract himself from reacting rather inappropriately to the sight of Yuuri moaning around his mouthful.

“Yeah, but it doesn’t taste right. And even if I could make it perfectly, I don’t really have a kitchen at my place. Just an electric stove for heating things and stuff. Most of my place is for my art. It’s very…minimalistic, I guess.”

It was clear that Yuuri was trying to paint an unflattering picture of it, but Viktor couldn’t help but see past the self-deprecating tone to the devotion to his art. He had no idea what Yuuri’s paintings were like and the first tentative attempts to ask after them had been gently, though clumsily, diverted. Still, he couldn’t help but think that Yuuri’s creations would be lovely.

“I’d like to see it someday,” Viktor said unthinkingly, freezing when it made Yuuri blink wide-eyed at him. “Ahh, no, sorry, I didn’t mean to presume. I was just…”

“It’s fine,” Yuuri murmured, ducking his head. “I’d like to have you.”

“You don’t have to say that, it’s fine.”

“I’m not,” Yuuri insisted. “The place is a mess, and I’d like to clean up, but if you actually want to come over, then do. I have to warn you though – it won’t be as fun as being here.”

The way Yuuri’s voice dipped on the word _fun_ told Viktor exactly what he meant. Viktor swallowed and stuffed his face with rice before he said something stupid.

Once he got himself under control, he spoke again.

“Please give my compliments to your mother. This really is amazing.”

Yuuri’s smile was wide and dazzling.

“Thank you, Viktor. She’ll be happy to hear that. She loves cooking for people – I think she misses it. She was, uh, very happy when I said this was for my – well – my–”

“Boyfriend?” Viktor provided, more than a little hopeful.

Yuuri’s face flamed.

“I – yes. Boyfriend. She was happy.”

Viktor’s grin felt like a pale imitation of the joy roaring inside him.

“I’m glad,” he said, not clarifying whether he was talking about being called Yuuri’s boyfriend or his mother’s happiness. The look Yuuri gave him, fleeting but piercing, said he knew the answer. “Your mother – you said she runs a bed and breakfast?”

Yuuri nodded, pausing to swallow before speaking.

“Yeah. I’m surprised you remember. Or not,” he added with a startlingly sly look at Viktor. “But they don’t get much business there. She used to run a restaurant, but my sister took over a few years back. My parents said they were too young for retirement and turned their home to a bed and breakfast. Mom tells me she still feels too idle.”

“Wow,” Viktor breathed. It wasn’t the words themselves, but the way Yuuri said them. There was so much warmth there, so much unbridled affection. He painted a cozy picture of his family, even though he hadn’t really said much at all. “She sounds amazing.”

“She is,” Yuuri agreed. “She’d like you.”

Viktor almost choked.

“Woah, are you–”

He waved off Yuuri’s concern, nearly draining his glass of water. He couldn’t possibly say that for a moment, he’d thought that Yuuri was hinting at Viktor meeting his parents which was serious and too soon and very much desirable.

Of course he wasn’t going to say any of that. He was sure Yuuri didn’t even mean it that way.

“Swallowed wrong,” he told Yuuri, shooting him a winsome smile.

Yuuri only frowned.

“Alright…”

They returned to their dinner. Viktor had almost decimated his bowl and a look at Yuuri showed much the same.

After a few minutes, Yuuri spoke.

“You know, we should go there one day.”

“Hm? Where?”

“My parents’ place,” Yuuri said with a little shrug. Viktor made a strangled noise. “Or my sister’s. They’d love to have you.”

“I - uh – of course – I mean I’d–”

Viktor clicked his mouth shut, giving up miserably. Yuuri seemed unfazed, but there was something about his complete nonchalance that Viktor didn’t trust.

“Plus they’re always worrying I don’t eat well, which is fair since I mostly survive on take-out. But still, they’ll like you just for making me eat actual food.”

This time, Viktor waited until his heart was not threatening to burst and his tongue less clumsy before speaking.

“Any time, Yuuri. Say the word, and I’m yours.” He paused to consider that. “Well, maybe say the word a few days early so I can arrange things at work. But the sentiment remains.”

Yuuri only smiled, eyes crinkling.

For the rest of dinner and through wash-up, Viktor remained in a happy haze. Settling into bed with Yuuri, snug under the covers with Viktor’s laptop over their legs did nothing to dispel his bubbly mood.

What did do it was Yuuri’s hand settling on his thigh as he leaned his head on Viktor’s shoulder halfway through the movie.

Viktor blinked out of his daydreams, suddenly alert for all the wrong reasons. He squinted at the screen, trying to make out the story. There were explosions and music. He spared a few minutes to admire the sight of a woman running from armored giants with another woman unconscious in her arms. It would be a sad day when Viktor failed to appreciate a pair of toned arms.

But he still had no idea what movie it was though he remembered humming his agreement when Yuuri pointed at it. For the moment, he was much more interested in the way Yuuri’s fingers were tracing mindless patterns on the inside of his thigh and very successfully waking up parts of Viktor that was better left alone until they – Yuuri – finished the movie.

At least, he _hoped_ it was mindless. If Yuuri was doing it deliberately, then he was far more devious than he seemed.

On the screen, more things exploded. Yuuri’s hand clamped down on Viktor.

There was nothing he could do to stop the little noise that escaped him. Yuuri didn’t react, and Viktor thought he hadn’t heard until Yuuri did it again, this time a little higher on Viktor’s thigh, perilously close to his dick.

Viktor gave him the benefit of doubt until Yuuri shifted and his knuckles brushed Viktor’s groin.

“Yuuri,” he whispered forcefully. “I know you’re doing this on purpose.”

Yuuri hummed pleasantly. His palm flattened itself over Viktor’s mostly soft cock.

“I see I finally have you attention,” Yuuri told him, voice deceptively casual. He paused the movie and carefully maneuvered the laptop off to the side. Yuuri’s glasses followed. “I was starting to think you were asleep.”

Viktor, as was always the case when he had Yuuri’s hands on him, needed a minute to gather his thoughts.

“Uh.”

Yuuri turned his head, tucking his face into Viktor’s neck. His lips moved against Viktor’s throat with each word.

“You were distracted, Viktor. Since the movie wasn’t holding your attention, I thought I’d try.”

Viktor swallowed and tilted his head further back. Yuuri’s lips puckered against his pulse in a whisper-soft kiss.

“Sorry,” Viktor breathed, not quite meaning it. “I was thinking of you.”

“Really?” Yuuri asked, sounding delighted. “I’m flattered.”

“I think of you more than is healthy,” Viktor continued because he was the kind to not finish until he was buried in the grave he’d himself dug.

Yuuri drew back, hand sliding away from Viktor’s cock, not taking mercy at his plaintive whine. He was compensated with a kiss, Yuuri mouthing his way along his jaw before catching Viktor’s lip between gentle teeth.

“What exactly about me occupied you so much?” Yuuri asked softly, audible only because of the scant space between them.

“Everything,” Viktor said on the tail-end of a moan. “Everything, Yuuri.”

“But you don’t know everything about me,” Yuuri replied, infuriatingly logical.

Viktor shut him up with a kiss.

“I’ll learn,” he said when they broke away minutes later with bitten lips and heaving chests. “I’ll learn everything.”

Yuuri’s expression darkened and the next moment, he was on Viktor again, licking into his mouth with something like desperation. Viktor rolled them over so that he was splayed on top of Yuuri, cushioned comfortably on the heat of him. The clothes between them were frustrating, but Viktor was lost in the barely restrained violence with which Yuuri ravaged his mouth.

When they parted again, Viktor tasted copper. He was painfully hard.

Yuuri’s hands smoothed down his back and over the curve of his ass, palms fondling him appreciatively before moving to the waistband of his pants. They slid off his hips easily, and he was very glad he’d decided to forego underwear when his cock sprang free of its constraints. Yuuri wasted no time going for his prize, and Viktor muffled a cry in his neck when a hand wrapped around the base, not stroking, just holding, the pressure steady and teasing.

It was tempting to just buck his hips into Yuuri’s fist and take his pleasure, but he’d been wanting something so desperately since the first time he’d seen Yuuri naked. Now, it was a need, clinging to the edges of his desire like pinpricks of fire.

“I want to suck you off,” he rasped, pressing the words against Yuuri’s jaw. “Let me, Yuuri.”

Yuuri made a strangled sound that was permission on its own. Viktor still waited, pulling back to look into Yuuri’s eyes. They were dark, so dark; deep and shadowed with lust.

Viktor watched as they fluttered close and flashed open with newfound heat.

“ _Yes_.”

Yuuri’s hands released him, and Viktor mourned the touch even as he slid down Yuuri’s body. His pants were pulled out of the way, but Yuuri was wearing boxer-briefs, the front of it bulging with the outline of his hard cock. Viktor leaned in to mouth at it, teasing with lips before gently pressing his tongue against the fabric. Above him, Yuuri cursed low and hot, but kept carefully still.

By the time he had his fill, the cloth was wet with more than just saliva.

Yuuri sighed when Viktor stripped off his underwear and freed his cock. It was thick and flushed, fluid gleaming at the head. Viktor licked his lips and lowered his head, flicking his tongue out for a taste.

Yuuri moaned.

Viktor raised his head just enough to wink at him and got to work.

He _felt_ the stretch of his lips around Yuuri’s girth, and the little cut on his lip from Yuuri’s teeth stung as he worked his mouth down the length of it. Viktor closed his eyes, breathing fast and shallow through his nose as he took in what he could, a slow, steady endeavor. It had been some time since he’d done this, but god, he’d missed it. There was something he loved about the weight of a cock on his tongue and the whisper of danger at the touch on his throat.

He pulled back before he gagged, swallowing convulsively. He didn’t wait to even spare Yuuri a glance before descending again, grabbing his cock by the base to cover what Viktor couldn’t fit in his mouth. He could feel Yuuri’s legs trembling, could hear the harshness of his breath, and he loved it all, loved to have this beautiful, bewitching man reduced to sheer sensation by Viktor’s hands and lips.

He swirled his tongue around the head, easing under the foreskin and shuddering at the taste. He let the cock slip out of his mouth until his lips were resting against the head in an imitation of a kiss, and then drove himself back down, something like hunger twisting in his gut as Yuuri hit the back of his throat.

Yuuri shouted, loud and frantic, and his thighs closed around Viktor’s head.

Viktor moaned around the cock in his mouth, helpless to do anything but raise a hand and clutch at Yuuri. His fingers sunk into soft flesh, and Yuuri started as if to ease the grip of his thighs, but Viktor clung to him, keeping them exactly where they were. Yuuri said something, the sounds swimming incoherently in Viktor’s ears, and the next moment, there were fingers in his hair, nails biting into his scalp.

His own cock was starting to ache where it hung heavy between his legs, aroused beyond belief at the position Viktor found himself in.

Viktor just breathed, his needy noises mangled with Yuuri’s cock gagging him. Inch by inch, he took him deeper, Yuuri’s encouragement felt in the tightening of the grip on his hair. He didn’t stop until his noise was buried in the thatch of black hair at the base of Yuuri’s cock. Viktor’s throat convulsed around the heated length, wringing a trembling cry of his name from Yuuri. All he could taste and smell was Yuuri, musky and intoxicating.

He didn’t know how long he spent not moving, just loving the fullness in his mouth, but it was the burn in his lungs that made him rise, letting Yuuri slide out of his mouth as he gulped in air.

“Viktor,” came the call, Yuuri’s voice dark with desire.

Viktor looked at him, inexorably drawn, and shivered at the expression on Yuuri’s face.

He looked like he wanted to devour Viktor.

“Keep going,” he asked, and Viktor obeyed all too gladly.

He was faster this time, furiously working Yuuri’s cock with his mouth and tongue. It wasn’t long before Yuuri gripped him more securely by the hair and started jerking his hips in little thrusts, fucking Viktor’s mouth almost gently. Viktor mumbled something like a plea around his cock, letting his lips go slack. There was a pause, silent save for the sounds of two pairs of lungs gasping for air, and then Yuuri was moving, driving his cock in and out of Viktor’s mouth in tightly controlled movements that would still leave him sore and rasping the next morning.

Viktor remembered a promise whispered over the phone and would have laughed if only his mouth wasn’t so busy.

It was with relief and disappointment that he greeted Yuuri’s climax, basking in the raw need with which he shouted Viktor’s name and came in his mouth. He tried to swallow every drop but didn’t quite manage, some of it dripping down his chin and trickling down his neck when he rose. Viktor licked his lips, mouth twinging at the salty bitterness and cock throbbing in something like sympathy.

“Fuck,” he bit out, palming himself and almost crying at the too-light pressure.

He watched Yuuri, sprawled on his back with an arm over his eyes, almost insensate. His cock was soft between his legs, wet from base to tip. Viktor’s lips felt swollen.

Yuuri moved suddenly and with startling speed, sitting up and yanking off his shirt, letting it fall somewhere on the floor. Viktor was grasped in strong arms and pulled right into Yuuri’s lap, straight into a kiss that ate up the come staining his chin and chased the taste into his mouth. Viktor shuddered as Yuuri kissed him like he was trying to memorize each centimeter of Viktor’s mouth.

“You taste like me,” Yuuri whispered when they parted. He licked at Viktor’s lips, almost soothing. “Viktor, fuck, _Viktor_.”

“Do you like it?” Viktor asked, though he knew the answer, and Yuuri knew it too.

“Fucking love it,” Yuuri said with a sound that didn’t quite pass for a laugh. He reached between their bodies and took Viktor in hand. “My turn.”

Viktor moaned in tandem with the first stroke. In response, Yuuri picked up his pace.

He threw his head back and rode the rhythm of Yuuri’s hands.

 

* * *

 

Viktor was woken by the infuriating blare of his alarm.

To be fair, he’d chosen the tone for maximum irritation because for all that sleep liked to evade him some nights, when he did manage it, waking was a total chore. This morning at least, he jumped up at the first grating note and fumbled with his phone with one eye open until the torture ceased.

Beside him, the reason for his diligence slept on peacefully.

Half of him was envious. The rest of him just wanted to coo because Yuuri, with his hair spread messily on the pillow and mouth half-open to let out the lightest of snores, was _adorable_.

Makka was there too, having been let into the room once they’d cleaned up after sex. She’d started the night plastered to Viktor’s side but had migrated to the foot of the bed some time later. Now, she lay curled over Yuuri’s legs, happily asleep.

Viktor would have killed to be able to snuggle back into Yuuri’s side and cuddle him as he slept, just like he’d done last night, but he had work today. Yakov knew him far too well to accept a sudden, inexplicable cold as reason for his absence. He did let himself indulge in watching Yuuri for a few more minutes, just until his brain fully pulled itself into the land of the living.

Then, he pressed a wistful kiss to Yuuri’s cheek, pried himself off the bed, and threw himself at the mercy of his shower.

Clean and with a nice cup of tea in him, he went to wake Yuuri, coffee in hand. Yuuri was sound asleep when Viktor approached him and didn’t wake even at the first touch on his shoulder. Viktor shook him gently, carefully holding the coffee in his other hand.

“Yuuri? Yuuri, sweetheart, wake up. Yuuuuurriiii.”

One brown eye peered balefully at him. Viktor offered him his brightest smile.

“Ugh.”

He didn’t let his smile falter. Yuuri couldn’t possibly be worse than Yuri had been back when he had to rise with the sun to let Viktor train him. There had been one memorable incident with a stuffed tiger, a Swiss knife, and a two-inch hole on Viktor’s arm.

Eventually, he poked and prodded Yuuri into sitting up. The peace offering of coffee was snatched up and inhaled even as Viktor watched with mild horror. It had been _scalding_.

“Morning,” Yuuri mumbled, somehow able to speak even while missing a layer of skin in his mouth.

He noticed Viktor’s stare and tilted his head, lips pursing into a puzzled pout that instantly sent Viktor’s thoughts skittering in an entirely different direction.

“What?”

“Nothing! It’s just, that coffee…I didn’t know how hot you liked it.”

“I like it _very_ hot,” Yuuri drawled, eyeing Viktor unsettlingly intently.

Viktor didn’t know if he was imagining it of it there was a familiar quip there; in the tone, in the eyes.

_I like my men like I like my coffee._

It physically pained him not to tackle Yuuri back to bed.

“I want to stay,” Viktor told him, standing a respectable foot away from temptation. “I really want to stay. But I have to work.”

He let his longing show, and it must have reached Yuuri because he smiled, nodding in understanding.

“It’s fine. I do too.”

“But you’re staying for breakfast.”

“You know the condition for that, Viktor.”

“Good thing I love cooking with you.”

His smile felt like it was spitting his face in two. He didn’t know if he sounded as smitten as he was, but at the moment, he couldn’t bring himself to care. Yuuri met his gaze and held it, brown on blue. Something great and indefinable stretched between them.

Viktor could hear his heartbeat.

His phone blared again.

He started back, the coffee mug almost falling from nerveless fingers, but fast reflexes saved it from a tragic fate. He set it down on the table and grabbed his phone, eyebrow twitching in forcefully suppressed irritation when he saw who it was.

It was barely seven. Yuri shouldn’t even be awake. He wasn’t due to start work until next week and everyone knew Yulia was too soft to wake him up this early.

“Yura,” Viktor called into the phone, sickly sweet. “ _Why_ are you up?”

“Fucking jetlag,” came the snarled answer. “I’ve been up since three, Viktor. Anyway, I’m coming over. You better not be doing something creepy with your new fling.”

“He’s not a–” Viktor stopped and took a deep breath. Most fights with Yuri weren’t worth the effort. The kid didn’t even mean most of what he said. “Where are you?”

“Close. A couple of blocks away.”

Of course.

“Know what, I’ll come get you. Wait there, alright.”

“Huh, wha–”

Viktor hung up with a satisfying click.

On the bed, Yuuri was watching him with cautious eyes.

“My…kind-of-brother is coming over. This is, uh, not how I thought you’d meet him. Or anyone. Is it okay? I mean, no of course it’s not, I just–”

“Viktor,” Yuuri said quietly, leaning over to put his hand on Viktor’s arm. “It’s alright. This is your home.”

“Yes, but…”

“I’m a little startled, but give me some time to get myself together. It’s fine, I’ll be fine. Go get your kind-of-brother. I’ll get dressed and hang with the lovely lady here.”

Makka’s tail wagged as if in agreement.

“I – right. Okay.”

He took a step back and then surged forward, stealing a kiss from Yuuri’s startled mouth. Pulling away, he waved and all but fled the apartment. He thought he heard Yuuri laughing behind him.

Yuri must have utterly ignored Viktor’s order to stay where he was because Viktor ran into him just three buildings away from him apartment.

“A little warning would have been nice,” he admonished, turning to walk beside Yuri. “I had my lover over.”

“I did warn you, old man.”

“A phone call five minutes before you show up doesn’t count, kitten.”

Yuri growled at the dubious endearment.

“Next time, I’ll just text you,” he bit out, jamming his hands into his pockets and hunching over.

Viktor sighed.

“So? Why the fuck did you run out here like someone set a fire under your ass?”

“To tell you to be nice. I really, really like this guy, Yura. Please don’t be rude to him.”

“Fuck that, I’m rude to everyone. And if this guy’s really all that, then he won’t be scared off by a teenager.”

Viktor could _feel_ a headache starting.

“I know, but I want you to like him. And for Yuuri to like you.”

Yuri stopped and turned to face Viktor, mouth agape.

“ _Yuri_? His name’s Yuri?!”

“No, it’s Yuuri. _Yuuri_. See, it’s different. Yuuri. Yuri.”

“What the hell? Your boyfriend has my name, that’s fucking creepy, Vitya.”

The morning had looked so much brighter a few minutes ago. Viktor heard Yuri mutter something suspiciously like “ _there can only be one Yuri”_ under his breath and vehemently wished that he’d stayed in bed with Yuuri, ignoring all alarms, calls, and enraged knocks on the door.

Then again, Yuri had a key.

By the time he reached his apartment, he was resigned to what would follow. He hoped Yuuri could handle Yuri; it was hard to see but under all the bluster, Yuri had a kind heart. It just took some digging.

“Yuuri! We’re back!” he called, throwing the door open. Behind him, Yuri scoffed.

The living room was dark. That was strange; he hadn’t raised the blinds but he had turned on the lights.

“Yuuri?”

Silence greeted him.

Viktor waited. One beat passed. Two. Three.

Nothing stirred in the shadows.

There was no one here. The apartment was empty.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *whistles innocently*
> 
> Come scream at me.


	6. sex and white lies (handcuffs and alibis)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He always gets attached too fast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are **references to canonical animal death, i.e Vicchan** in this chapter. Also, there was indeed a lot of screaming after last chapter, and I’m delighted, but here’s hoping this one helps with that!
> 
> I wrote the latter half of this while listening to Halsey’s Drive on loop. Make of that what you will.

The apartment wasn’t empty.

There was a yelp, and Makkachin trotted out of the shadows. Viktor absently held out his hand when she reached him, petting her with absent motions. She pushed her cold nose against his palm, insistent and almost comforting.

“Well?” Yuri asked, pushing past Viktor into the apartment. “Where’s your guy?”

It took a moment before Viktor could make himself move from the doorway and yet another before he could speak.

“I – I don’t know. He’s not – he’s not here.”

Yuri’s eyebrow rose impressively high.

“The fuck? He was here when you left, right?”

Viktor nodded. Yuri threw up his hands.

“Then where the bloody hell could he go? We were like, five minutes away, right? We’d have seen him if he left. Check the other rooms or something. He’s probably there.”

And yes, Yuri had a good point. It wasn’t impossible that Yuuri could have left unseen, but he’d have to have followed Viktor almost immediately. But even as he searched the bedroom, bathroom, and even the guest room, Viktor knew that he’d find. Or rather, what he would not find.

There was no Yuuri in the apartment.

“He’s not here,” Viktor reported dully to Yuri who was munching on an apple from his fridge.

“Huh, really?” Yuri asked. “That’s weird. Did you do something to scare him off, old man?”

Viktor gave him a thin-lipped smile.

“Not unless telling him you were coming over was the cause.”

The moment he said that, regret rose. That sounded like he was blaming Yuri, and an ugly little part of him was quick to point out that maybe he did blame Yuri. But that was petty and foolish, and besides, he’d known Yuri quite a lot longer than he’d known Yuuri. He was all too familiar with how the boy worked, even found it endearing in a strange kind of way.

“That was uncalled for,” Viktor added quietly. “Sorry, Yura.”

Yuri shrugged, though his eyes were narrowed.

“You’re not wrong. I’m just surprised you’re irritated at all. You usually don’t care this much.”

Viktor shrugged, looking down at Makkachin who’d been glued to his side since he returned. She probably knew he was upset. He never could hide things from her, and it had always been a relief that he didn’t have to try.

“Yuuri’s special. I’ll just…call him, alright? Help yourself to whatever you need.”

He could feel Yuri’s eyes burn into his back as he made his way to the bedroom, but he didn’t follow, and Viktor was thankful for that. He needed a moment or ten to himself.

He called Yuuri the moment he had his phone in hand. It rang and rang and rang.

There was no surprise, not quite, but the warm flicker of hope he’d clung to withered. He sat down hard on the bed, head in his hands. His throat felt thick and wet, but there was no burning in his eyes, no senseless tears. Why would he be crying anyway?

Sure, Yuuri had just up and left and wasn’t even answering his phone, but maybe there was a reason for it. It didn’t make sense that he’d just _leave_ when he’d been smiling and happy when Viktor left.

Makkachin whined, licking at his face and pushing herself between his legs with a cute little wiggle. He threw his arms around her and buried his face in her fur, breathing in the soothing scent of dog and that extra something that was unique to Makkachin.

“What would I do without you, girl?” he murmured into her forehead before pulling back. He pressed a kiss to her nose and rose, intent on returning to Yuri before he came looking for Viktor.

Yuri was waiting for him on the couch, tapping away on his phone. He put it away when Viktor collapsed beside him but didn’t look at Viktor, instead leaning back in a messy sprawl. Viktor curled up on one end of the couch, trying to look more chipper than he felt.

“No luck, huh?” Yuri asked after a few minutes.

“Nope.”

Green eyes slid over to him. Viktor smiled.

“He probably had something to do.”

“Aw, Yura, it’s not like you to bother with platitudes. How sweet.”

Predictably, that got him blushing and cursing furiously, vehement denials hurled at Viktor alongside flailing limbs that barely missed a kidney.

It was honestly cute how Yuri tried so hard to pretend he didn’t care.

Viktor didn’t prod him any further, but his own smile felt a little less like a knife.

“He seemed fine with meeting you when I left. And now, well. I can’t really imagine what made him flee.”

Except…

A thought sparked to life, as ludicrous as the one that had led him to Yuuri in the first place. And just like then, he couldn’t brush it off so easily. He no longer had alcohol and misplaced attraction as excuses, but even as Viktor opened his mouth to say what was on his mind, a part of him wondered if it wasn’t just desperation clouding his sense.

Anything, really, to let himself believe he hadn’t driven away a man whom he already cared so much for.

“Yura? Are you actively sensing now?”

“What? No, of course not. I don’t do that outside of missions anymore. It was killing me.”

“The training worked then, hm?”

Yuri rolled his eyes so hard that Viktor’s own ached in sympathy.

“The training always works. You guys were just afraid I’d be too stubborn to listen.”

Viktor shrugged and didn’t deny it.

A cambion’s ability to sense demons didn’t come without a price. Their demonic essence allowed them to hone in on others possessing the same, be it full demons or other cambions, but their human halves rebelled against it. It started as headaches that grew in intensity the closer they got to a demon, but if a cambion never stopped sensing, never turned _off_ whatever preternatural switch existed in their brains, the headaches would become permanent and debilitating, even as it made them more efficient hunters. Aneurysm was a worst case scenario.

Viktor had worked with a total of three cambions in his career, with Yuri being the third. The other two had been nowhere near as powerful as Yuri, but he’d held one as they breathed their last in his arms. There had been no warning, no cause; just a gasp, a fall, and the creeping coldness of death.

Yuri, with a power that could be said to match the Organization’s founder, was at much higher risk – a risk he didn’t help allay by being careful with his talent.

Viktor knew that forcing Yuri into training when he was already so strong had been Yakov’s last resort. He was equal parts relieved and surprised it had worked. Yuri was nothing if not stubborn.

“I’m glad,” Viktor told him, careful not to show the extent of it. Yuri didn’t receive affection with any more grace than he doled it out.

Another eye roll.

“Whatever. They made a good case for it. I can be a hunter for far longer if I’m careful, and the training increased my range to the point I can compensate for the edge I get from going nuclear. I’m more effective this way.”

Viktor smiled and didn’t say that he and Yakov had said this exact same thing to Yuri a million times in the past, only for it to fall on deaf ears. It figured that he’d have to hear it from Lilia Baranovskaya of all people.

“I take it you like Lilia’s training then,” he said lightly and grinned at the glare Yuri shot him.

“Shut up,” he hissed. “She’s worse than any demon. But she’s _good_.”

High praise considering who it was coming from.

“Anyway,” Yuri rushed to say before Viktor could question him more on Lilia. “Don’t change the subject. We were talking about lover boy.”

And Viktor hadn’t forgotten, not at all, but he’d let himself focus more on concerns about Yuri. The cheer he’d built from listening to Yuri vanished the moment Yuuri was back at the forefront of his mind.

“I wasn’t trying to change it, Yura. I’m curious – were you sensing when I came to get you?”

“No?”

“But demons can still sense cambion, can’t they? Even when you’re _off_ , so to speak.”

“Yes? This is basic shit, old man, why are you – wait a fucking second. You’re not implying your Yuuri is a goddamn demon.”

“I’m not!” Viktor replied automatically. The denial sat awkwardly on his mouth. “Well, not really. It’s just – it’s a funny story. When I first met him – it was in a club, I was with Chris and I, uh, I thought Yuuri was a sex demon. He was so beautiful, you see. And I was a little drunk. So I thought – no human can possibly be this pretty, this…captivating.”

He didn’t look at Yuri until he was finished talking and wasn’t surprised to find him gaping incredulously at Viktor.

“You still slept with him, didn’t you?”

Viktor nodded.

“Holy shit,” Yuri breathed. “Vitya, you crazy motherfucker, what is _wrong_ with you?”

“It was just a drunken mistake,” Viktor protested. “Everything was fine. Yuuri was the perfect gentleman. I’m still here, aren’t I? He’s not a demon.”

Yuri just looked superbly unimpressed.

“Right. And that’s why you’re oh-so-subtly asking if your boyfriend sensed me and fled. Because he’s a demon. Because you _still think he’s a demon_. Fucking fuck, why are you with him?”

“I don’t think he’s a demon,” Viktor told him, mostly believing it. “Not really. I swear I didn’t think that when I slept with him. And I didn’t think it again until now. I just…I can’t help thinking it’s a possibility. There’s no proof. Yuuri’s never given me a reason to think that of him.”

“No proof, so it’s intuition.”

“Or paranoia.”

Yuri scoffed but nodded, conceding the point. Viktor had spent nearly half his life being a demon hunter. His instincts were excellent, but he wasn’t free of a healthy dose of paranoia either.

“It is pretty far-fetched,” Yuri muttered, absently tugging at a long lock of his hair. “But alright, let’s imagine your guy was a demon. That he sensed me and fled. The point still stands that he couldn’t have left without us seeing him. Demons don’t vanish into thin air like in those stupid old texts.”

“Could he have hid in one of the other floors?”

Yuri gave him a pointed look.

“Listen, I know you’re old and decrepit, but you couldn’t have forgotten that I’m not that weak. It doesn’t matter if I’m suppressing my powers, if a demon comes that close to me, I’d sense it. And I didn’t. No demon was anywhere near us when we got here. Only way I’d have missed him was if he never left your apartment in the first place, but we’re on the fourth floor. It’s not like he could have jumped off the balcony.”

Viktor considered that for a moment.

“A flesh-eater could have made it.”

“Flesh-eaters are fucking vicious. You wouldn’t be still alive.”

Viktor gave Yuri a veiled glance that was summarily ignored.

“You know it doesn’t work like that, Yura. Your mother–”

“My _mother_ is human,” Yuri snapped. “The woman who carried me – she’s not my mother. She’s just another demon and as twisted as the lot of them. Mum’s an idiot for still loving her.”

Viktor didn’t argue. Yuri wasn’t the first cambion he met who felt that way. He wondered sometimes, whether Yuri’s hatred for his demon parent was due to her nature or at how she’d abandoned her human wife and their infant child. He’d never asked. He never would.

“Maybe, but Yura, you know that Ra – the demon lived with Yulia for almost a decade and didn’t harm a hair on her. And the information we have pretty much confirms that she was a flesh-eater.”

Yuri scowled, looking down at his lap.

“I’m not saying that means anything,” Viktor said gently. “Demons are still evil. But we know for a fact that they’re capable of living with humans without inflicting harm.”

“Just sounds to me like you want your guy to be a demon,” Yuri said testily.

Viktor flinched.

“No, no, of course not.” He took a deep breath and slumped against the couch. “I want nothing of the sort.”

“Then why are you so determined to prove he is?”

“I’m not. I’m just–” Viktor chuckled, humorless. “Desperate. I guess I want him to have a reason for leaving, a reason that’s not me.”

Only silence greeted him.

It was naturally followed by an explosion.

Yuri’s fist thudded against his arm, harsh and painful. Viktor turned his eyes to him just in time to see him draw in a breath for a shout.

“You’re such a stupid piece of work. Of course he had a reason! Of course you’re not the damned reason, that doesn’t even make any sense.”

It did, but Viktor didn’t think Yuri was in any state to accept that.

“Fuck your moping. Talk to him before that overdramatic brain of yours cooks up some great tragedy. Jesus. You’re pathetic.”

“Mmhm, I am, aren’t I?”

Yuri growled.

Viktor held up his hands, conciliatory. He smiled again, a little more genuine.

“It’s fine, Yura. I’m just shocked and letting my thoughts run wild. I’m sure Yuuri will tell me why he left.”

“He better. Don’t let him off the hook so easy. It’s a dick move anyway.”

Viktor very carefully did not point out how sweet it was of Yuri to stay here and say all this. That would only backfire, and Viktor was too moved by the care implicit in Yuri’s actions to tease him with it. For now, at least. He was getting sentimental in his age.

“And don’t,” Yuri added, pointing at Viktor, “start the conversation accusing him of being a demon. I know you have no tact, but that’s a whole other level of it!”

“I won’t,” Viktor promised him. “Maybe I’ll introduce him to you. Just to be sure.”

Yuri made a face at that.

“Ugh, whatever. Feed me, will you? I’m hungry.”

“You’re all ready for work then? We can eat and leave.”

“Yeah, sure. It’s why I’m here anyway.”

Viktor hummed and left for the kitchen, Makkachin at his heels, Yuri a few paces behind, and Yuuri in his mind.

 

* * *

 

To no one’s surprise, Yuuri haunted him for the rest of the day.

He was sure no one except Yuri saw it and even that was only because he’d been with Viktor in the morning, when the incident was too fresh for him to put his walls up. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t regret sharing as much as he had with Yuri. He was just a kid and didn’t deserve to have Viktor’s problems, let alone those of his love life, dumped on him. But the rather aggressive support had been nice while it lasted.

And better Yuri than Chris or Mila. Those two would never have left him be, would have shot him worried glances and checked up on him without even trying to be subtle about it. Yuri glared at him now and then, though that was the norm anyway, but he mostly stuck to Otabek who seemed glad for the company in his own quiet way.

Yakov had yelled at him for bringing Yuri in when he wasn’t supposed to be at work for several more days, but Viktor thought that was less because he was truly irked about Yuri and more that Mila, Sara, Georgi, and Otabek were taking out a demon tonight. Yuri was clamoring to go with them, but Yakov wasn’t budging. Viktor wasn’t too worried. They were targeting a psychic-vampire, one that seemed to feed on anger, and they were as prepared as they could be. He wanted to be there himself, but this wasn’t his mission.

He’d be going back to his and Chris’s frustrating pet project tonight, a tentatively confirmed demon who gave absolutely nothing way. All he had to look forward to was another night of stakeout. At least he would get home by midnight.

But that would only leave him with more time to fret over Yuuri, wouldn’t it?

He checked his phone every few minutes. No calls nor texts came, not from Yuuri. By lunch, he switched off the phone for the sake of his own sanity and left it in his car.

Time crawled by.

Viktor read through recent research on demon psychology with unseeing eyes.

Eventually, it was time to leave.

He wished the others luck as he left, reminded Mila to text once the job was done, and headed out to the suburbs.

Watching the perfectly mundane single storey house with its white picket fence and well-tended garden was as dull as always. The face that kept flashing in his mind wasn’t of the demon but of Yuuri. His phone lay on the passenger seat, switched back on and silenced. His fingers twitched towards it, but he held back, the restraint assisted by some sense of duty.

The demon didn’t leave their house tonight either. Viktor drove away, more resigned than vexed.

Halfway to his apartment, he checked his phone. There were no texts from Yuuri. No missed calls. He didn’t even try to himself that he wasn’t disappointed.

He took the elevator instead of the stairs. He didn’t want to reminded of this morning when he’d raced up them with Yuri by his side, trepidation and excitement both clashing as he led a boy who was practically family to his newly minted lover.

He was being pathetic, wasn’t he? So torn up over a man he’d only known for a handful of weeks.

But they had been his most joyful weeks in recent memory. Maybe some of that was the rose-tinted fervor of infatuation, but Viktor couldn’t quite convince himself of that, not when he recalled how the warmth in Yuuri’s eyes made his heart skip a beat. There was something between the two of them.

Or there had been. Whatever it was, it had clearly not been enough to make Yuuri stay this morning.

One last look at his texts showed him one from Mila. Their target had been eliminated. Georgi had sprained an ankle, and Sara had a few cuts that would need stitches, but they were fine otherwise. He texted back his relief, promised to bring them all pastries the next day, and tucked his phone away.

He wasn’t looking forward to being alone in his apartment. But he wasn’t really alone, was he? He never was. He had Makkachin.

He exited the elevator and turned the corner to his door, only to freeze at the sight that greeted him.

Yuuri was there.

Yuuri, in the same clothes he’d worn last night and presumably this morning, was there on the floor, leaning his back against Viktor’s door, head tilted back and knees drawn up.

Viktor stared at his profile, still as a statue, not even breathing. He blinked, half-expecting the vision to change, to shimmer and fade like a mirage.

It didn’t. Yuuri was still there, eyes closed and unaware of Viktor. He looked like was asleep. It was quite late.

Viktor swallowed and forced his tongue to shape sounds.

“Yuuri?”

Yuuri jerked as if electrocuted, stumbling to his feet. He rubbed his face, eyes wide and wild as they settled on Viktor. There was a half-suppressed flinch, and then he moved away from the door and towards Viktor, only to stop two steps in.

“Vi-Viktor.”

Viktor took a look at his watch, knowing the time but wanting to confirm anyway.

“It’s…late,” he said, not knowing what else to say.

Yuuri nodded, looking down at his feet.

“I know, I – I didn’t think to call. And after I got here and found no one home, I just...figured it’s better to wait for you.”

“How long?”

Yuuri gave a one-shouldered shrug.

“I don’t know.”

“Well, what time was it when you came here?”

Another shrug. Yuuri’s hands vanished into his coat pockets.

“Around eight, I think.”

Four hours. God.

He had spent the whole day waiting for Yuuri to call, to text, to give him something, anything. Yuuri hadn’t. Instead, he’d come to Viktor’s apartment without knowing whether he’d be here and waited at his door for four hours. _God_.

“Inside,” Viktor mumbled, a little dazed. “Let’s go inside. You must be cold.”

“It’s fine,” Yuuri said but followed Viktor inside once he opened the door with subtly shaking fingers.

Makkachin was there the next moment, jumping on him and doing her best to reach his face. This was routine – she always seemed to know when he was just outside. He caught her securely and bent just enough so she could get to him. A couple licks and she was gone. From behind him, there was a soft, surprised noise from Yuuri. Viktor turned and wasn’t surprised to find Makkachin showering Yuuri with her love.

Despite his confusion and uncertainty over Yuuri, the sight made him smile.

Yuuri’s eyes met his over Makkachin’s. They were grave and nervous.

Viktor was suddenly very, very tired.

“Tea,” he blurted out, turning away from Yuuri and shedding his coat. “Would you like some tea?”

“Uh – I – no, please don’t bother.”

“Well, I want some,” Viktor muttered, not quietly.

Yuuri didn’t respond but his footsteps followed Viktor into the kitchen. Makkachin was beside him the next second, panting gently. He trailed the tips of his fingers over the top of her fur.

“Please sit,” he told Yuuri, gesturing at the kitchen table.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he watched Yuuri open his mouth, swallow whatever he’d been about to say, and take a seat.

“How do you take yours?” Viktor asked, remembering only after asking that Yuuri had said he didn’t want any.

But Yuuri bit his lips, shook his head a little, and said, “With milk and sugar.”

Viktor nodded and turned to the kettle. He’d really just wanted something to occupy him so he could sort out his thoughts. And tea was appealing when he felt so cold.

It was April. The weather wasn’t the issue, probably.

Five minutes later, sitting down at the table opposite Yuuri with a cup of warm tea, Viktor regretted his decision. His thoughts weren’t any clearer; the opposite if anything. They kept sliding away from him, slipping out of reach when he tried to focus. Yuuri was distracting, with his pretty eyes and pursed lips and the little glances he shot Viktor when he thought he wasn’t looking.

Viktor couldn’t be sure, hadn’t spent enough time with Yuuri to read him too well, but he thought he looked contrite.

Presumably then, he wasn’t here to tell Viktor that he had somehow fucked up and they would have to break up.

Granted, he could be here for precisely that and just pitied Viktor, but no one would wait four hours in a hallway in the middle of the night for that, right?

“It’s good,” Yuuri said after taking a sip of his tea.

Viktor inclined his head and tried not to let it show on his face that he’d made the tea without any conscious thought. His own cup, made with honey and lemon, tasted decent enough but that could be attributed to sheer habit. But Yuuri drank his down with something like vigor, so maybe it wasn’t too bad.

They didn’t speak afterward, not even when Viktor washed the dishes with Yuuri hovering awkwardly nearby.

Afterward, his hands felt empty and restless.

“I should brush Makka,” Viktor said, not quite looking at Yuuri.

“Ah,” Yuuri breathed, sounding terribly resigned. “I could leave? It’s late, and I’m sure you’re tired, so I’ll just…”

“Do you want to leave?” Viktor asked dully.

A small, petty part of him wanted to add that Yuuri hadn’t needed permission this morning, but that wasn’t fair and he knew it. Yuuri was here and likely wanted to talk about it. And Viktor had known the moment he saw Yuuri in the corridor that he’d hear him out.

But the hurt still lingered.

“No,” Yuuri told him, voice firm despite the anxious flicker of his gaze. “I want to talk to you. If you’ll let me.”

Relief rose in Viktor’s chest, warm and sweeping and _foolish_.

He always, _always_ got attached too fast, but he liked it better when it was to gruff father figures who scowled more than he smiled or wet, whining puppies blinking up at him from cardboard boxes. Men were more complicated. Viktor liked being able to keep them at a distance until they made him feel like he no longer should.

No one had. No one.

“I want to,” Viktor told him, dredging up a smile that ached at the edges. “Just give me a few more minutes.”

Yuuri nodded.

“Nightly ritual?” he asked when Viktor settled down on the living room floor with Makkachin before him. She knew what the brush meant and let her pleasure show in drooping eyes and a lolling tongue.

“Something like that,” Viktor replied. “She has a monthly appointment at the groomer’s. Only the best for such a pretty girl.”

He didn’t mention that he only did this himself when he was feeling unsettled. He preferred to be alone with her, but he didn’t have much of a choice at the moment.

Viktor felt eyes on him and looked at Yuuri, finding him seated on the floor at little to Viktor’s side, close enough to touch if he stretched out his arm. Yuuri’s stare was fixed on Makkachin, but the usual fondness in his eyes was mixed with sorrow.

“I had a dog,” Yuuri said, so quiet that for a second, Viktor wasn’t sure if he’d heard right. “A toy poodle.”

Viktor remembered a text, something said almost like a confession. He’d believed it even then in an easy, delighted way. Yuuri’s voice, his expression now, drove it home with twice the impact.

_But poodles are my favorite._

“I bet she was cute,” Viktor said, giving Yuuri a smile that went unseen. He was still looking at Makkachin, but Viktor very much doubted that he saw anything at all, except maybe something in his own head.

“He,” Yuuri corrected gently, the ghost of a smile on his lips. “Vicchan. Short for Victor, oddly enough. Coincidences are strange things, aren’t they?”

Viktor barked out a laugh that made Makkachin tilt her head at him.

“Very. I’d be honored to share a name with your dog though.”

That, at least, brought a brighter smile out of Yuuri. It vanished soon.

“He’s been gone for a year now.”

“I’m sorry.”

“He was a very old puppy,” Yuuri said, a justification that fell flat. Brown eyes remained intent on Makkachin. “A little over ten when he passed. I tried to help, but I couldn’t.”

“There’s no way to help sometimes,” Viktor replied, the words tasting like ashes.

Makkachin was very old too, certainly older than poor Vicchan had been. He never liked to be reminded of that.

“I suppose,” Yuuri said, tone unreadable. “I thought it’d be hard, being so close to another poodle. But it’s…really the opposite. She’s so sweet, your Makka. It’s impossible not to love her.”

If Yuuri was trying to butter him up with this kind of talk, it was _working_. But Viktor couldn’t take the look on Yuuri’s face – a tender, vulnerable, bittersweet joy – and find anything but heartrending sincerity.

“She’s old too,” Viktor confessed, hating the words even as he said them. “I’m scared when I let myself be. I try not to think about it.”

To his surprise, it wasn’t shock or trepidation that crossed Yuuri’s face but another smile, soft and strangely reassuring.

“Don’t worry,” he told Viktor, meeting his eyes for a split-second. “She’ll be fine. She’s a lovely, strong girl with many, many years left in her.”

Yuuri sounded so impossibly sure that Viktor couldn’t do anything but nod and, for a blessed moment, believe him.

Soon, Makkachin was brushed and drowsy and trotting off to bed with a couple of happy licks at Viktor’s chin and Yuuri’s hand. They watched her ago, Viktor suddenly aware of what he’d been putting off.

“Why’d you leave?”

The question was out and hanging in the air before he even realized he’d spoken.

Yuuri just looked like he’d been expecting it.

“I don’t really have a reason,” he said, then paused and lowered his head. Viktor absently eyed the way his fist clenched against nothing. “No, I do. I was…scared.”

“Scared?” Viktor echoed, incredulous. “Why would you be scared?”

Yuuri’s wry smile said how badly Viktor had phrased that.

“A great many things,” he told Viktor. “This time, I – I thought it would be fine, meeting your brother. But when you left, it seemed so much. Too much, too fast. I was out of the apartment before I could think better of it.”

That – that made sense, and that hurt too, ridiculous as it was.

He and Yuuri had only known each other for a handful of weeks, had only seen each other in person three times in that time. They hadn’t discussed how serious this was, how long they’d last – well, there was no real way to know they would last. They’d tentatively discussed monogamy; Viktor had had no intention of seeing other people and wasn’t keen on a lover who did. Luckily, Yuuri had been on the same page as him.

Still, everything was new and uncertain enough that he understood why Yuuri had fled. It just didn’t make him feel any better. Yuuri could have called or texted just to let him know why he’d left, saving Viktor from tormenting himself all day with scenarios that grew increasingly harsh. And that was saying something when his first theory had been that Yuuri was a demon.

That, at least, could be written off as paranoia.

Viktor pulled himself out of thoughts that went nowhere and met Yuuri’s guilty gaze.

“I – I just–” His tongue stalled. He breathed a sigh and tried again. “How did you leave without us seeing you? I mean, Yura was close, and we were back soon. We should have run into you.”

Yuuri’s eyes widened and he looked away again.

“I, uh, I hid. Well, not hid. Just stayed out of sight. On the…second floor.”

“Because you heard us?”

Yuuri nodded, a grimace crossing his lips.

“Ah.”

 _Well_ , Viktor thought, grimly amused, _at least this counters the demon theory_. Then again, that shouldn’t have been a theory in the first place. Viktor should stop defaulting to it whenever when Yuuri did something that stumped him, whether that was being too beautiful for this world or running out on him without explanation.

He stood up, putting away the brush and cleaning fur off himself with more concentration that was probably warranted.

Yuuri was there, never too close, never too far away.

“Who was he, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Viktor made a vague noise but didn’t turn to face him.

“A boy who’s like a little brother to me. His grandfather and my former guardian are friends. He wants to work with us when he’s older. So I train him sometimes, when work and school allows. It’s interesting, but his name’s Yuri too. Yuri Plisetsky.”

“Oh, I see,” Yuuri said softly. “Interesting choice of profession.”

Viktor couldn’t help a crooked smile, carefully hidden from Yuuri. The profession wasn’t what Yuuri imagined it to be. They’d all tried, at one point or the other, to tell Yuri to choose a different path. He’d spat in their faces and called them out as the hypocrites they were.

Yuri never had much of a chance of doing anything else anyway, being a cambion. Who among them did? Viktor fought for his dead fathers, one killed by a flesh-eater, the other driven to revenge and killed in its course. Chris came from a family of demon-hunters, as did Lilia and Mila. Even Yakov had, on one December evening with too much snow and too much vodka, spilled morose memories of a brother found dead in his bed.

“Yes,” Viktor sighed. “It is, isn’t it? We have to trust he knows what he’s doing?”

There was a light touch on his shoulder, and Viktor froze. He realized belatedly that he’d been just standing there doing nothing for the last few minutes.

He turned around, nearly into Yuuri’s arms.

Warm hands cupped his face and dark eyes peered up at his, gentle and earnest.

“Viktor…I’m sorry. I really am.”

“It’s fine.”

It wasn’t.

He kissed Yuuri because he didn’t know what else to do.

Yuuri kissed back, tumbling into Viktor, hands clinging, lips searching, and it was simpler, sweeter to clutch back and be swept off in the hot, hard collision of their mouths.

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri whispered, nearly biting out the words before he dived back into Viktor.

They ended up in the bedroom, though Viktor couldn’t quite remember the progression there except for a faint throbbing in his shoulder where he’d slammed into a wall, both he and Yuuri too busy kissing to look where they were going.

A gentle push and Viktor sat down hard on the bed, Yuuri smoothly sliding between his legs, bending down to capture his lips like he’d drown if separated from Viktor for more than a second. Fingers slid through his hair, hard and with an edge of frenzy. Viktor arched into it, panting against Yuuri’s mouth and tugging at the bottom of his shirt as if trying to rip if off.

Yuuri took the hint and wrenched away, making a little noise of loss that Viktor echoed. It was worth it to see Yuuri naked from waist up. Viktor leaned in, nuzzling his soft belly, helpless to resist sinking his teeth gently into the flesh. Yuuri made a throaty noise, half-laugher, half-groan, and pried Viktor away by the hair, the sting of it travelling straight to his cock.

“I’ve had a long day, and I’m a mess,” Viktor told him, rising to twine his arms around Yuuri’s neck and press close to his skin. “But fuck me anyway.”

Yuuri huffed out a laugh, kissed Viktor hard, and backed up his answer with words.

“Why would I _ever_ say no?”

Viktor smiled, wide and sharp, and set about stripping.

It was hard to remember that he’d had Yuuri like this last night, that they’d woken up naked and tangled in bed just this morning. The tension of the day had made all of that seem like it had happened days, not hours, ago.

Viktor pulled Yuuri on top of him, less grace and more desperation, hungry beyond words for the feel of skin on skin. Yuuri draped himself over Viktor like a heated blanket, kissing him close-mouthed, then laving his jaw with sharp nips of teeth, working his way down his throat. Viktor bared his neck, biting his lip to stifle a groan when Yuuri closed his mouth around a sensitive spot and sucked, worrying a mark into his skin.

Viktor arched his hips, groaning in relief when his cock slid against Yuuri’s thighs. It wasn’t enough, but it was something, and then Yuuri pressed closer, cock sliding against Viktor’s abs and sending a shock of arousal through his body. Viktor nearly bit through his lower lip when Yuuri ground down again, rocking against Viktor with soft little sounds that he muffled with mouthfuls of Viktor’s flesh.

“Yuuri, _Yuuri_ , Yuuri, come on.”

“Mmm, yes, lube, we need–”

After last night’s activities, Viktor had clumsily shoved the supplies under a pillow. He felt under it until he found them and pushed it into Yuuri’s hands.

Yuuri didn’t waste any time, pulling back with a final, oddly tender kiss to Viktor’s racing pulse and grabbing Viktor by the thighs to spread him open. Blood rushed to his cock and face both as Yuuri stared down at him with naked need, running one hand up Viktor’s leg to trail his fingers delicately over Viktor’s cock.

“Shit,” he cursed, fighting not to chase the touch. “ _Yuuri!_ ”

Yuuri made those familiar shushing noises and finally opened the lube, almost dropping it as he slathered his fingers. Viktor tensed at the first cool touch at his entrance. Yuuri mumbled an apology and rubbed gentle circles around his rim. Viktor made himself relax, even as the lust simmering in his veins begged that he rush this. And he wanted to, didn’t want to take this too slow, but he hadn’t been fucked since his first time with Yuuri. He’d fingered himself on nights when memories of Yuuri clung to his skin and riled him up too much to be sated with a handjob, but that was it.

So he took a deep breath and let Yuuri breach him with slow, steady moments.

His patience lasted until the second finger was halfway inside.

Viktor grabbed fistfuls of his own hair and pushed down, clenching around Yuuri’s fingers with a yelp as they slid deep. Yuuri swore, low and hoarse, still from the crooked bend of his fingers to the slanting line of his shoulders.

“Faster,” Viktor said, a command half lost in a gasp.

Yuuri, bless him, complied eagerly.

The third one burned, and the sounds Viktor made were wet and needy as the fingers inside him twisted and thrust and fanned, tugging at his hole and spreading him wide. He squeezed his eyes shut until they hurt and breathed through the pain, urging Yuuri on with wordless noises. There was another curse from Yuuri and a new pressure at his rim.

It wasn’t until the tip was inside, punching out the breath in Viktor’s lungs, that he realized it was Yuuri’s thumb, sliding inside along with his fingers, not too much, just an inch, but even that _too much_.

“Viktor,” Yuuri called, the name almost a growl, and Viktor sobbed out an incoherent reply.

The next moment, he was empty and aching, and Yuuri was poised over him, hands on either side of Viktor’s head. Viktor blinked tears out of his eyes and met Yuuri’s, breath freezing in his chest at the look in them.

Yuuri kissed him and in contrast to nearly everything, it was slow and sweet and mind-melting.

Viktor found himself leaning up when Yuuri broke the kiss to settle back on his heels, yearning for the gentle touch and the full, fluttering sensation near his heart.

Yuuri slid on a condom, folded Viktor neatly in half, and pressed his cock into him. Viktor’s mouth fell open in a soundless scream and he arched his back, crying out when that made the head brush against his prostate. Yuuri kept going until he bottomed out, their bodies burning where they were joined together.

Viktor reached for him, half-blind and needing the contact. Yuuri caught his hands and pressed them back as he leaned over him, pinning them over Viktor’s head. He almost didn’t notice, too caught up in the way Yuuri seemed to slide even deeper. Viktor let his legs relax with Yuuri no longer holding them in place, winding them loosely around Yuuri’s waist.

When Yuuri didn’t move, he tried to squirm and found his movements limited by Yuuri’s cock buried in his ass and his fingers circled over Viktor’s wrists.

He felt trapped.

“Fuck,” he rasped with feeling, cock throbbing.

“You good?” Yuuri asked, sounding like each word was scraping his throat.

“ _Fuck me_.”

Yuuri did.

His weight fell on Viktor’s wrists, rough and perfectly painful, keeping him in place as Yuuri fucked him into the mattress, the last of his control lost. He was bent over Viktor, eyes screwed shut and hair falling in messy clumps into his eyes. Viktor wanted to kiss him, breathe him in, and keep him inside, but he could only ride the frenzy of Yuuri’s brutal thrusts and let his pleasure be heard in cries that grew deeper and more stuttered with each stroke of that thick cock deep inside him.

A little shift, a shallow thrust, and Viktor was screaming, throwing his head back as fire bolted up his spine. He _writhed_ , trembling and thrashing in Yuuri’s hold which threatened to loosen but wound back tight when Viktor hissed at him.

“ _No_. Hold me down.”

Yuuri’s eyes burned into him, but Viktor had to close his own when a powerful snap of Yuuri’s hips tore a wounded noise from his lips and a shudder from his body. His hands tried in vain to twist in their prison as he squirmed and arched, each move somehow sending Yuuri’s cock deeper into him. His own cock, neglected and aching from it, bobbed in time with the thrusts, leaking precum down its length.

He wanted to touch, wanted Yuuri to touch him, but that meant asking Yuuri to release his hands, and he didn’t want that, wanted come just like this, held under Yuuri and slowly, sweetly driven out of his mind.

Yuuri bit out Viktor’s name, fucked into him fast once, twice, and shuddered, hips stuttering as he came.

He left Viktor strangely bereft, needing more, needing to come.

Yuuri let go of his hands, the sudden absence of pressure followed by numbness. Viktor knew he’d have bruises tomorrow, like handcuffs made of fingerprints.

Then Yuuri’s hand curled around his cock, and all thought fled Viktor’s head. It didn’t take much, just a few swift strokes, and he was spilling over their bodies, ass tightening around the softening cock still within him. Yuuri groaned in tandem with Viktor, working him until the stimulation was too much and he was whining at it.

Yuuri released him, kissing Viktor the next moment, their mouth slacks and sloppy.

Viktor moaned when Yuuri pulled out of him but sat up, rubbing the feeling back into his leaden wrists. There were pinpricks of pain. The rest of his body throbbed in pleasant ways that would leave him wincing tomorrow.

Worth it.

Clean up was a silent affair. Viktor rode the hazy high of his orgasm until they were back in bed. It didn’t need to be discussed that Yuuri was staying.

And it was good, great, right until the point they were under the covers, and Viktor remembered what had happened before they tumbled into bed.

Yuuri, it seemed, had never forgotten.

He scooted closer to Viktor and touched his face, gently swiping his bangs out of his eyes.

“Viktor. I really am sorry.”

Viktor forced another smile.

“It’s fine, Yuuri.”

Yuuri only frowned.

“Please, I – I realize that you’re angry with me. But you don’t need to – you can show it. You don’t need to smile like it’s okay when it’s not.”

Viktor gaped at him, barely even breathing under Yuuri’s gentle touch and gentler words, all more stunning than a blow to the face.

“Wh-what?”

“I really am sorry,” Yuuri said, missing the cause for Viktor’s shock. “I know it was a cruel thing to do. I know I should have said something. I’m…I’m kind of a mess. But you shouldn’t have to suffer for that.”

“Yuuri…”

“I understand,” Yuuri said hurriedly. “I understand if you don’t want to see me again or, well, if you only want - nevermind. It’s just–”

“Yuuri, no, ssh. I don’t want that at all. I want you, I want _this_. See, I–”

Viktor paused, leaning his head to the side so Yuuri’s hand fell across his eyes. The darkness and the warm touch were soothing.

He never really had a problem faking the ‘right’ emotion. He knew better than to do it with people who could see through him except that he could count those on the fingers of one hand and have a few left over. Either he’d been just that obvious tonight, or Yuuri had been paying that much attention to him, to his smiles.

The latter option was slightly terrifying, but it also birthed butterflies in his stomach.

Maybe that was what made the truth leave his lips.

“I was scared too, Yuuri. Scared when you disappeared. Scared when you didn’t call and text. I thought it was me; something I did or said.”

“No,” Yuuri whispered urgently. “No, no, it’s me, just me. I’m sorry.”

Viktor grasped Yuuri’s hand and pressed a kiss to the knuckles.

“Thank you. For coming back and explaining.”

“I truly am–”

“I know,” Viktor said, smiling again, fainter this time and real too. “I forgive you.”

“I’ll make it up to you,” Yuuri told him, expression fierce in the pale light of the lamp.

And Viktor realized that he believed him.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think!


	7. i tell myself if i’m gonna fall (it’ll be from high places)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draw me like one of your French girls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, it’s exactly what the summary makes it sound like.

Viktor checked and double-checked and triple-checked the address, all while his heart beat a little too fast and his guts twisted into strange shapes. He thought his hands might have shaken if only long practice hadn’t made them as steady as they could be.

He was being silly, really. It wasn’t like this was their first date or even the fifth. He and Yuuri had been spending much more time together these last several weeks. He tried his best to arrange his schedule so that they could go on dinner dates and have movie nights, and on other days, Yuuri met him for lunch at a nice Indian place nearly equidistant from their respective places. It was a stellar arrangement, and Viktor kept finding more and more things to like about Yuuri.

All logic said that being here, at Yuuri’s studio at Yuuri’s invitation, was only the next natural step.

Viktor’s nerves refused to listen.

He did finally make it out of his car and up the exposed set of stairs, only to stop short of knocking on the plain white door. It was definitely the right place. There was a name plate stuck to the door, with Yuuri Katsuki spelled on it in neat, black letters.

Viktor glanced down at himself, fussing a little over his clothes. He was dressed in slacks and a pressed shirt, and they were as neat as they could be, not that it stopped Viktor from smoothing down nonexistent wrinkles and straightening his sleeves. A deep breath, and he raised his hand again to knock.

The door opened before his knuckles could connect.

Yuuri stood on the other side, clad in a plain white T-shirt and cargo shorts, smiling sheepishly.

Viktor’s brain stuttered to a stop.

_Too hot, too hot, oh god, help, this is not a drill._

Yuuri blinked and leaned past Viktor to look at the sky.

“Yes, the sun’s a menace today, isn’t it? Come on in, it’s cooler inside.”

Yuuri held the door open in silent invitation, and Viktor was inside before he even registered that not only had be said all that out loud but also that Yuuri had assumed it was about the weather. He was torn between being grateful about his salvaged dignity ( _What dignity?_ whispered a part of him that sounded suspiciously like Yuri Plisetsky) and disappointed that Yuuri couldn’t tell how much of a fool Viktor was about him.

It was indeed cooler inside, but Viktor had greater reasons to be concerned than the temperature; namely Yuuri, cute and smiling and with a lot of skin showing. He turned away from Viktor to lock the door, and it took more self-restraint than he knew he possessed to not drop to the floor and worship that _ass_.

Viktor had been worried about coming here because it seemed like a significant step in their relationship, and Yuuri was important enough that Viktor worried about those things, but clearly, he should instead have focused on how Yuuri was going to unwittingly murder him by being too attractive. One would think that having constant exposure to said attractiveness for nearly two months would inure one to it. One would be very, very wrong. With each day that passed, Viktor only got more, according to Chris’s delicate phrasing, _thirsty_.

“So,” Yuuri said, pushing up his glasses with one hand while the other made a small, sweeping motion. “This is it. Home sweet home.”

Only then did Viktor actually pay attention to where he was.

Just like Yuuri had said, most of the place was an art studio. There were easels, blank canvases, and paintings in different stages of completion, some uncovered, most not. Close to the left wall was a deep blue chaise lounge, plain and pristine. Big, curtainless windows along the far end swathed the room in light. On one corner of the room, there was a table with a sleek laptop and a tablet on it, somewhat incongruous from the rest of the room’s atmosphere.

Yuuri noticed where Viktor’s stare was lingering.

“I do digital art too,” he clarified, a little flushed. “I’m not that good at it, but commissions pay the bills. And blogging is good advertisement.”

Viktor beamed at Yuuri.

“So talented, my Yuuri!”

Yuuri’s blush deepened, and he turned away, gesturing at a wall.

“My room’s there.”

Viktor frowned in the direction, surprised when he realized that what he’d thought was a wall was a partition with a door off to one side. It was good camouflage, assuming that was what it was intended to be.

“Are we…going in there?” Viktor asked cautiously.

Yuuri made a sound that was suspiciously like a snort.

“No. Well, not yet. There’s something else first.”

Viktor waited, excited and expectant but Yuuri didn’t say anything else. Instead, he took Viktor’s hand, kissed his cheek, and shamelessly took advantage of his resultant happy haze to lead him to the chaise lounge.

“Take off your clothes,” Yuuri murmured, lips brushing Viktor’s jaw. “And pose.”

With his heartbeat in his hears, it took a moment for Viktor to register the question.

“Wait, what? _Pose_?”

Yuuri’s smile somehow managed to be both smug and shy.

“You asked, didn’t you? ‘Draw me like one of your French girls’ – your exact words. Well, not really your words, but I get the sentiment. Anyway, this is me complying.”

“B-but that was a joke!”

Yuuri tilted his head, expression blank.

“I don’t think it was.”

Viktor’s face heated, and he ducked his head, mumbling something like a denial. Yuuri was right though. It hadn’t been a joke because Viktor had blurted that without any thought. A joke implied some measure of deliberation.

No, Viktor was just silly and very gay.

“Do you mean it?” he asked, chancing meeting Yuuri’s eyes. They were fixed on him, brown and warm. He didn’t know why he’d never noticed the hint of red to them. Maybe it was the light.

It made him cup Yuuri’s face and lean in for a closer look. Yuuri sighed, nuzzling against Viktor’s palm.

“You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to,” Yuuri told him quietly. He didn’t sound disappointed, not exactly, but there was insecurity in there. “I thought you might, but it’s okay.”

“I do,” Viktor said, clearing his throat when his voice came out hoarse. “I do want to. I’m surprised though. Shocked even. I wasn’t expecting this.”

Yuuri smiled, eyes slipping shut.

“I told you I’d make it up to you,” he replied.

Viktor didn’t understand, not immediately. Yuuri didn’t have anything to make up for; he was a kind man and a sweet boyfriend, and their relationship had been sailing smoothly except for that one incident with Yuri and–

Oh.

Yuuri had said, hadn’t he, that he’d make it up to Viktor.

But it had been weeks since Viktor thought he had to do anything of the sort. It had happened, they’d got past it, and now they were happy.

“I forgave you a long time ago,” Viktor told him, not a rejection but a reminder.

“You did,” Yuuri answered, turning his head to press a kiss to Viktor’s thumb. “But I – I want to give this to you. It’ll take me a while. If you are interested, then please…”

“Of course, Yuuri. Of course.”

Viktor stepped back, hands gripping the base of his shirt, lifting it just enough to tease. It was rewarding, how quickly Yuuri’s gaze dropped.

He made a show out of stripping, easing each article of clothing off his body with slow, lazy motions. Yuuri watched him with eyes that burned but stayed well out of touch, though the clench of his fists told Viktor that he was struggling not to reach out.

When Viktor was finally naked, he winked at Yuuri and sat, keeping his legs demurely crossed.

“Well?” Viktor purred. “How do you want me?”

Yuuri looked very close to cursing the air blue or dragging Viktor to bed, but in a show of admirable self-restraint, he pushed his face into palms and took a few deep breaths.

“You are an evil man.” The words were distorted but coherent, and Viktor grinned, his playful protest dying on his lips when Yuuri’s eyes peeked out through his fingers. They were narrowed and intent, twin points scorching Viktor’s skin and burrowing in deep.

He squirmed a little and closed his legs a little more firmly. He was aware, however distantly, that this was Yuuri’s workplace.

Yuuri visible shook himself off and stepped forward, carefully keeping his gaze above Viktor’s neck. It made him want to pout, but he resisted, letting himself be distracted by Yuuri’s touch as he arranged Viktor to his liking.

“Do you treat all your clients this way?” Viktor asked, mostly joking, but also not.

“No,” Yuuri said, quite matter-of-fact, with no hint that he’d detected Viktor’s jealousy. “That would be inappropriate.”

“Isn’t it inappropriate now?”

Yuuri looked up from where he was fondling Viktor’s calf, expression blank.

“But you’re mine.”

Just like that, Viktor couldn’t breathe.

Yuuri didn’t seem aware that he’d cleaved straight to the core of Viktor’s heart and continued prodding his limbs this way and that. Viktor let him, pliant and barely aware. All he could focus was on Yuuri’s words, playing on loop in his mind.

His body felt too small for all the emotions crammed into it, bone and skin and flesh inadequate to contain the buoyant mess swirling in him.

“What is it?” Yuuri asked when he was done manhandling Viktor.

“Mmm?”

A thumb at the corner of his mouth, fingers trailing down his cheek, and Viktor closed his eyes, shivering sweetly.

“You’re smiling.”

His smile only grew.

“I’m _happy_.”

“Oh,” Yuuri breathed. Viktor opened his eyes and found Yuuri looking down at him with a crushingly soft expression. “Good.”

And then he stepped back, leaving Viktor with a heart that felt too full.

He had been too distracted to notice the position Yuuri molded him into. He was on his side, one arm pillowing his head, the other folded over his belly. The rest of him was stretched out, one leg a little bent at the knee. Hs cock lay against his thigh, soft and pink.

It was a relaxing position, or as relaxing as it could be when Viktor felt Yuuri’s stare like a brand.

To his surprise, Yuuri didn’t immediately head for the easel and canvas positioned a few feet away. He went to the table instead, opening a drawer and pulling out a small digital camera. Viktor kept carefully still as Yuuri snapped pictures, walking around him to capture all possible angles. Only after Yuuri was finished and looking through the images did Viktor speak.

“I thought you were going to paint me?”

“Hmm? Yes, I am,” Yuuri answered without looking up. “A live subject is desirable, but people don’t have as much time these days, you know? So I keep pictures for reference after the first session.” He shot Viktor a fleeting smile. “I know you’re a busy man.”

Viktor melted a little.

“I’d make time for you, my Yuuri.”

Yuuri’s cheeks pinked.

“I wouldn’t ask that of you. But thank you.”

Viktor wanted to insist that Yuuri demand that of him, that Viktor would happily _try_ even if the nature of his work meant he couldn’t make any promises. But he knew, even as the thoughts passed through his head, that Yuuri wasn’t that kind of man. He was private, contained, polite to a fault, and wouldn’t dare do anything he saw as an imposition.

They needed to have a few conversations on what counted as that, but it could wait.

For now, Viktor smiled and posed.

Yuuri was deathly silent once he took his seat.

He spent long minutes staring at Viktor and just as long on his canvas, hands moving in motions Viktor ached to see but couldn’t, not if he wanted to be good and still for Yuuri. The position itself wasn’t a strain, but the intensity of Yuuri’s gaze made it a unique sort of torment.

Viktor liked being watched. He liked having eyes on him. He liked holding people’s attention. And he loved it when elements of this made it into the bedroom. But to the best of his knowledge, having a man look at him while he was naked was, at best, foreplay. Good enough to get him hot and bothered, definitely enough to tempt him into jerking off under appreciative eyes.

Yuuri’s stare was affecting him far more powerfully.

It was hard not to squirm as his cock slowly filled, leaving Viktor feeling peculiarly dizzy as his blood crept south. His hands helplessly curled into fists, nails biting into skin. The pain didn’t dampen his arousal one bit.

Yuuri had to have noticed. Viktor was on full display, and his cock, jutting out in a gentle curve, was hardly a subtle sight. But he gave no indication that anything had changed and kept painting. And if his eyes lingered more on Viktor, if they swept over him with deliberate slowness, he gave no indication of it in his expression, and Viktor was left wondering if it was just his imagination.

He remained motionless, breaths shallow and fast until he remembered himself.

His cock ached for touch.

It could have been hours, minutes, seconds before Viktor called out softly, a quiet, barely audible of Yuuri’s name that somehow seemed to echo in the utter silence of the room.

Yuuri didn’t act like he’d heard, and Viktor said nothing more, just bit his lips and swallowed a sigh.

A brief eternity later, Yuuri stilled. He took off his glasses, setting it down by the easel, and ducked out of Viktor’s sight.

He didn’t realize Yuuri had actually finished until he stopped fussing at his station and stood up, stretching like a cat. Viktor hungrily eyed the tendons straining at his neck and the bulge of his biceps, but didn’t move.

Even when Yuuri strode over, a perfectly innocent smile playing on his lips, Viktor didn’t move.

“Are you done?” he asked, just a little breathless.

Yuuri hummed an affirmation, perching beside Viktor, perilously close to his dick. Yuuri didn’t even glance at it.

“You were very good,” Yuuri said, the words innocuous but the tone anything but. “You didn’t even fidget much.”

“Th-thank you.”

Yuuri’s hand came to rest on his shoulder, stroking the curve of it and down his arm, fingertips fluttering over Viktor’s skin.

Viktor shivered hard and finally let himself relax, rolling on to his back and sinking into the cushion. Yuuri just kept on smiling implacably.

“Yuuuuuri,” Viktor whined.

“Yes, Viktor? Would you like something?”

Viktor took everything back. Yuuri wasn’t nice or kind, he was evil.            

…Was this payback for how Viktor had teased him earlier?

“ _Yuuri_ ,” Viktor whined again, more insistent.

“Viktor,” Yuuri returned calmly, almost unaffected except for how he was looking at Viktor with barely hidden want.

“This is cruel and mean,” Viktor murmured, arching his neck when Yuuri’s fingers came to rest on his pulse. “I am being grossly mistreated.”

“Mmhm, I’m sure.”

Yuuri kissed him, swift and surprising, taking advantage of Viktor’s gasp to slip his tongue inside for a quick taste. Viktor tried to follow when he withdrew, but Yuuri’s hands pushed down on his shoulders, pinning him in place.

“So, does being painted do it for you? Being watched?”

Viktor gaped at his brain slowly processed that Yuuri wanted to have a kink discussion _now_.

“Yes,” he bit out. “Though I didn’t think you’d notice given how diligently you’ve been working.”

Yuuri giggled, as if Viktor’s very justified ire was somehow amusing.

“Yuuuuriiiii…”

“I’m a professional,” Yuuri said, still giggling. “I couldn’t stop halfway to fuck you, could I?”

Viktor growled.

Yuuri smiled wider at the sound, the expression sharp at the edges.

“It’s not like I’m unaffected,” he told Viktor with a significant glance at his own crotch. Viktor strained for a glimpse but the baggy shorts didn’t offer much visible proof of arousal.

Yuuri huffed, let go of Viktor’s shoulder to grab his hand, and pressed it very firmly between his legs.

A hard bulge greeted him, and Viktor squeezed it before he could help himself, pulling a muttered _fuck_ from Yuuri who pulled Viktor’s hand way, keeping it tightly in his hold.

“Not here,” he mumbled, seemingly more to himself than Viktor. “I work here, people lie here.”

With that, he got up, pulling Viktor upright as well. He followed the momentum and threw himself at Yuuri, wrapping his arms around his back and kissing him good and deep, holding Yuuri’s face to keep him there until Viktor had his fill.

They were breathing hard when they parted, and Yuuri’s mouth was wet and red, perfect and impossibly tempting. Viktor was only a man and had to lean in again, chasing the high of those lips on his, but Yuuri ducked away, laughing breathlessly, and didn’t stop until his back was flush against the door to his room. His eyes didn’t leave Viktor even when he reached back and turned the knob, stepping back into the room with an invitation etched on every inch of his body.

Viktor followed, all but stalking over to Yuuri.

He wasn’t in the mood to survey the room, his only interest the low bed that took up most of the space. He caught Yuuri a foot away from it and helped him pull his shirt over his head before dropping to his knees, yanking down Yuuri’s shorts and his underwear in one smooth move.

Yuuri was well on his way to an impressive hard-on, and Viktor helped him along all too gladly, grabbing hold of the base as he took the head into his mouth. Yuuri gave a startled cry, knees buckling a bit before he regained control.

“Viktor,” he hissed, nearly an admonishment but the effect ruined by the way it trailed into a moan.

Viktor licked a stripe up Yuuri’s cock and grinned at him, wide and wicked. Yuuri blinked out of his daze and tried to frown disapprovingly.

“You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?”

“Only a little death,” Viktor promised, rising, taking care to brush his body along Yuuri’s.

Yuuri groaned, but it wasn’t the good kind of groaning.

“That’s – no, just no. That’s horrible, you’re horrible, why do I like you?”

Viktor kissed him, muffling the sulky tirade.

“For my charming personality, I’d say. Or my ass. You do seem so fond of it.”

Yuuri fell back on the bed, pulling Viktor down with him. He fell on Yuuri with a huff and would have lay like that for a few moments, soaking in the soft warmth of his flesh, but Yuuri cupped his face and nudged Viktor to rise so he could look at him with grave, intense eyes.

“No,” Yuuri said, quietly, firmly. “Not just any of that. I like all of you.”

Viktor had meant that as a joke, hadn’t truly meant anything by it, but it still touched him that Yuuri was willing to refute that, to take time from pleasure to give something like reassurance.

Viktor kissed him for it, tried to show his gratitude without saying anything. It must have worked because Yuuri relaxed into it, lips parting to let Viktor in. His taste was heady, a sweet sort of poison that wrapped around Viktor’s head and dick both. Viktor skimmed his teeth along Yuuri’s lip, and shuddered when that earned him a gravelly moan.

“I hope you have supplies,” he murmured, reluctant to pull away from Yuuri’s mouth. “I will be very cross if you don’t, Yuuri.”

Yuuri chuckled. His hands swept down Viktor’s back, squeezing his hips before settling on his ass.

“I half-expected you to bring them along. Just in case.”

Viktor bit back a smile and nipped at Yuuri’s jaw.

“Rude. I might have. But I was so nervous about coming here that I forgot.”

“Nervous? What for?”

Viktor hadn’t really meant to say that, but now that he had, he might as well be honest about the rest of it.

“Well, you invited me here. It felt like a big deal. I wanted to make a good impression.”

Yuuri raised a hand to cup Viktor’s face and push it back to better see him. It was hard to meet that curious gaze, but Viktor did it, smiling shyly. He knew he sounded ridiculous, but well, Yuuri should be at least a little used to that by now.

“Viktor,” Yuuri sighed, laughter audible in his voice. “How did I ever deserve you?”

“Uh, wha– _mmph_.”

Yuuri kissed away his confusion, flicking his tongue against Viktor’s and returning to fondling his ass, pressing and rubbing his cheeks before spreading them wide, rough enough to make his hole twitch in anticipation. Yuuri’s fingers traced his rim, and Viktor whimpered into his mouth, pushing back into the touch. Dry fingers scraped his opening, not dipping inside but threatening to, and Viktor clenched hard at the imagined burn.

He ground his cock into Yuuri’s, impatient and wanton.

Yuuri broke the kiss, panting.

“I don’t,” he said, voice low. “I don’t care. You’re mine.”

Viktor wasn’t given the time to react, to tell Yuuri that it wasn’t about deserving, and even if it was, he deserved all the wonderful things in the world, before Yuuri kissed the words out of his mouth, frantic as if afraid of what Viktor would say.

It was hard to think when Yuuri did this, but Viktor put in a valiant effort anyway, clinging to Yuuri’s shoulders even as he wrenched his mouth away.

“What are you talking about?” he gasped between breaths. “You deserve _everything_.”

Yuuri laughed, short and brittle, and kissed Viktor’s forehead before rolling out from under him. It left Viktor cold and alone, and he reached for Yuuri, finding only the smooth expanse of his back. Viktor walked his fingers along Yuuri’s skin while he searched for something under the bed. A minute later, he emerged clutching a packet of condoms and a mostly full tube of lubricant.

“I should have had these out earlier, I guess,” Yuuri told him, amused and pointed.

“You really should have,” Viktor returned. “It’s been scientifically proven that you can’t keep your hands off me.”

Yuuri grinned, teeth showing, eyes crinkling, and Viktor shut up and stared.

“Why would I want to?” he asked and well, good point.

Viktor crawled over Yuuri, straddling his chest. He took the supplies from him, grabbing a condom and setting it aside before pushing the lube back at Yuuri in a clear demand. Yuuri, though, was focused on Viktor’s cock.

“Come here,” he ordered, urging Viktor forward with hands on his hips. “Fuck my mouth. I’ll get you ready.”

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” Viktor swore with feeling and scooted forward with more desperation than grace, choking on a moan when the tip of his dick brushed Yuuri’s mouth. “Now who’s killing who?”

“Still you,” Yuuri whispered hoarsely and opened his mouth for Viktor.

Viktor braced himself on the sheets, bowed over Yuuri, and slowly fed his cock to him. The heat of his mouth was the sweetest shock, tearing a broken whine out of him. Yuuri hummed in satisfaction, and Viktor swore again, hips jerking without any input from his brain. Yuuri had his eyes closed and his lips spread wide around Viktor’s dick, and it was obscene, and Viktor was _dying_.

He was so focused on Yuuri and his mouth on Viktor’s cock that the first touch on his hole sent him jolting, back arching as a startled cry escaped him.

Yuuri, perfectly cruel, sucked hard at the head of Viktor’s cock just as he pressed in with two slick fingers. Viktor scrabbled at the sheets, clutching them for strength as the dual assault wreaked havoc on his body and mind. He didn’t know how well you could manage to be smug with a cock in your mouth, but Yuuri was doing a damn good job of it.

His fingers, halfway in, slid back out and pushed in again, more insistent. They pressed on Viktor’s sweet spot like Yuuri had a fucking prostate-radar built into his fingertips, and Viktor _howled_ , ass tightening on the intruding fingers. Yuuri’s tongue swirled around his cockhead, soothing and distracting. Viktor felt dizzy from it all.

The third finger was a relief, the sting of the stretch a welcome hurt. Viktor heaved in great gulps of air, head hanging limply as he tried to push into Yuuri’s mouth and back against his fingers at the same time. Yuuri opened him up efficiently, one hand massaging Viktor’s ass while the other worked his hole, and blew him with equal enthusiasm, all tongue and sweet, hot suction.

By the time he pulled his fingers out and released the cock in his mouth, Viktor was a trembling, panting mess.

He went willingly when Yuuri pushed and prodded him to inch back and lift his hips and take his cock. Latex-clad flesh slid into him, just the head, thick and perfect as it spread Viktor wide on his girth. The rest of him followed, and he didn’t think he’d ever get used to the way Yuuri filled him up until he couldn’t _breathe_.

He let himself rest for a few seconds, seated on Yuuri’s cock and impossibly full. And then, he clutched Yuuri’s shoulders, clenched his thighs, and moved.

Yuuri made an animal noise, fingers digging into Viktor’s hips hard enough to bruise, and bucked up, meeting Viktor’s thrust with his own. The shock of him slamming deep almost sent Viktor toppling down, but Yuuri caught him in a kiss, their mouths moving rough and sloppy while Yuuri moved his cock in and out of Viktor with shallow thrusts. Viktor broke the kiss and tried again, reaching behind him to brace himself on Yuuri’s bent knees and rising until Yuuri was nearly out of him.

He slid back down, careful and controlled, taking Yuuri’s cock inch by inch. This time, Yuuri kept still, breathing through gritted teeth and clinging to Viktor with a strength he’d feel on his skin for days.

“God,” he rasped when Yuuri bottomed out. “You’re so–”

“Call me Yuuri please,” came the response, and Viktor hated him just a bit for being coherent enough to make a quip like that.

“Fuck you,” he managed to say, languidly rising until he was aching and empty before pushing back down with a drawn out groan.

“You _are_ ,” Yuuri told him, sounding wrecked and amused in equal measure. “So good too.”

Viktor shivered and rode Yuuri in earnest.

Yuuri pried one of his hands away from its death grip on Viktor’s hips to stroke his cock, the first touch unexpected and the rest overwhelming. Viktor fought to keep his rhythm, hard as it was when Yuuri seemed determined to coax his brain to spill out through his dick. A finger rubbed his slit, gathering precum to spread down his length, and Yuuri’s stokes grew smoother, wetter, until Viktor was reduced to bouncing mindlessly on his cock, chasing the touch of his hand and the heat of his cock with matching desperation.

He came all too soon, shuddering hard as his cock jerked in Yuuri’s fist, come splashing hot and thick on them both. He slumped, stunned and wrung out, incapable of moving. Yuuri took over, snapping his hips up with swift, sure motions, fucking deep into Viktor with each thrust. He swayed violently, held upright only by Yuuri’s hands and Yuuri’s cock, little keening noises falling from his lips each time Yuuri moved in him. He squirmed and gasped, but he took it, clinging to Yuuri like a lifeline until he went taut with a shout and came.

Yuuri was pretty in his climax, face screwed up and almost painted, lips swollen red and lashes wet with unshed tears. Viktor watched him with a possessive sort of joy, proud and content that he’d brought this beautiful man so much pleasure.

Liquid brown eyes blinked open, blank and unseeing for a moment before they focused on Viktor who only offered him a lazy smirk.

“Kiss me,” Yuuri said weakly, and Viktor complied, muffling a whine when the movement made Yuuri’s cock slip out of him.

He all but collapsed on Yuuri, burying his face in his shoulder and letting his body melt against him. He stretched his legs back, sliding sideways so that his whole weight wasn’t resting on his lover. Yuuri followed him, winding his arms around Viktor and holding tight.

“Can you blame us?” Viktor slurred, voicing a passing thought before it faded.

“Hmm?”

“For fucking all the time. It’s so _good_.”

Yuuri laughed, the sound utterly exhausted and equally delighted.

“Agreed.”

Fingers carded through Viktor’s hair and he nuzzled into Yuuri, drifting off.

 

* * *

 

He was woken by Yuuri’s hand on his shoulders, shaking gently.

Viktor blinked the sleep out of his eyes, confused even as he sat up and took in his surroundings. It took him a moment to realize he was in Yuuri’s room, mostly because he hadn’t really noticed anything but the bed until now.

It was plain and sparsely furnished, the only splash of color the deep blue of the bedspread. It was cozy though, and Viktor fell back to bed with a happy sigh.

Yuuri blinked at him, cute and bemused.

“Sorry,” Viktor offered, smiling up at him. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“It’s fine,” Yuuri replied, sitting on the edge of the bed. “I dozed a bit too after I cleaned us up. Then I left to get us takeout. I wrote you a note in case you woke up while I was gone.”

Yuuri gestured at the spare pillow and indeed, there was a tiny square of paper there, weighed down by Viktor’s phone. His clothes sat nearby, neatly folded.

“Oh, Yuuri. I’ve been a terribly rude guest.”

Yuuri flailed, eyes wide behind his glasses.

“No, no, no, what are you talking about? Besides, you’re not just a guest. You’re my lover.”

Yuuri had to stop saying these things so casually. It was hard on Viktor’s poor heart.

Either oblivious to or willfully ignorant of Viktor’s reaction, Yuuri reached over and picked up a plastic bag. Viktor sniffed, stomach grumbling at the delicious smell.

“Naan and butter chicken from this place nearby. Their food’s great. I think you’ll like it.”

“I already do,” Viktor said dreamily.

Yuuri shot him a soft, soft look.

They ate sprawled on the floor, Viktor raiding Yuuri’s wardrobe for T-shirt and boxers. Yuuri had been pink in the face ever since Viktor put them on and, for the sake of Yuuri’s dignity, Viktor pretended that he didn’t see the lingering looks Yuuri gave him. It wasn’t too hard to be distracted though. The food was _amazing_.

Halfway through, he remembered why he’d come here in the first place.

“Yuuri!” he mumbled through a mouthful of naan. “The painting! You didn’t show me!”

“I think you were too busy jumping me,” Yuuri replied. “Doesn’t matter anyway. You’re not seeing it until it’s finished.”

“Aw, but Yuuuuri!”

“Nope.”

Viktor pouted, but Yuuri wasn’t swayed. And stuffing chicken into his mouth was an unusual counter strategy but it worked.

“Can I see other works of yours?” he asked once he swallowed. “That’s fine, right?”

Yuuri gave a little shrug and ducked his head.

“I – yeah, sure. If you really want.”

Viktor didn’t know how Yuuri could invite him over, make him strip and pose while he painted him, fuck his brains out when he saw how Viktor was affected, and _then_ act like his art was something unremarkable.

“I really do,” Viktor said gently. “Please let me.”

Yuuri gave him a small smile.

Viktor half-expected him to try and put it off, but after dinner, Yuuri retrieved his tablet and the two of them cuddled together on the bed.

“I take pictures of everything I sell, with the clients’ permission of course. Here, it’s this folder. Help yourself.”

Viktor did, not even trying to hide his eagerness.

It didn’t escape his notice that Yuuri was very carefully not looking at Viktor while he browsed the art, but he didn’t call him out on it. The figures on the screen took up all his focus anyway.

He’d always thought, in an abstract, optimistic kind of way, that Yuuri was a good artist. But that had mostly been an assumption generously colored by his own affection for the man. Granted, Viktor would have been impressed no matter what because Yuuri made a living with his art while Viktor could barely draw stick figures, but all those were vague, shapeless musings and crumpled in the face of Yuuri’s talent.

And he did have talent – _in spades_.

Viktor scrolled through impeccably lifelike depictions of nude figures of all genders and colors and sizes, rendered in a style that was simple, blunt, and absolutely stunning. There were others mixed in too. Cityscapes with human figures dotting it that obviously lacked the finish of the nude figures but were impressive all the same. There were a few clothed people too, all alone.

Viktor flipped through the entire folder in an entranced daze. Then he went back and did it again.

By the end, he was sure he had stars in his eyes.

“Wow,” he breathed. “Yuuri, you’re so _good_.”

Yuuri started, shooting Viktor a deer-in-headlights look. Then he smiled, not his usual sugar-sweet grin but something timid and strained.

“Ah, thank you, Viktor.”

Viktor frowned.

“Yuuri, no, listen. I’m not just saying that because you’re my boyfriend. This is good, really.” He took Yuuri’s hand in his own and held on until Yuuri met his eyes. “I wouldn’t lie to you. Trust me.”

That twinged a little, the lie making him want to squirm. The tattoo on his chest seemed to burn.

He would lie to Yuuri – he did, he had to. His duty demanded it. One day, if he were lucky, Viktor would get to apologize.

But the spirit of his words was honest enough.

Yuuri didn’t know of his guilt though. His gaze was fixed on Viktor, but seemed to look right through him. Then he blinked, and when he smiled this time, it was sweet and familiar.

“Thank you, Viktor,” Yuuri repeated, sincerity lacing his words. “That means a lot.”

Viktor grinned and darted in for a quick kiss. Yuuri made a pleased noise against his lips.

“So, what made you choose this? Did you like to paint as a kid?”

A look flashed through Yuuri’s face, strange and unidentifiable.

“I suppose. I’ve…always been fascinated by humans.” Yuuri leaned away, sliding down to lie on the bed with his hands folded under his head. Viktor remained sitting, eyes on Yuuri. “The way people worked, you could say. Not in the head. Psychology has never been interesting to me. But their bodies. The way they’re formed, they way they work…the way they break, they way they bleed.”

There was _something_ in Yuuri’s voice, a reverence that caressed each word almost insidiously.

Viktor suppressed a shudder.

He was just imagining things; justified because Yuuri had gone from shape and form to blood and breaking without batting an eyelash, all in that same, dreamy tone. But that was fine. Yuuri didn’t mean anything by it.

Artists were eccentric sometimes, right?

“I have a few anatomical pieces buried in there,” Yuuri told him, thankfully unaware of Viktor’s sudden discomfiture. “Digital art mostly. But it’s no good. I’m bad with that. I found my calling, I guess? That seems like a pretentious way of putting it. Anyway, I found it in figure painting. But I still experiment when I have free time.”

“Ah,” Viktor said, not quite knowing what else to say.

Yuuri looked at him, glasses glinting in the new angle and hiding his eyes for a second.

“You alright?”

“Oh, yes. I was just listening to you and wondering why you didn’t try for medical school? I mean, that sounds like another way to explore your…tastes.”

Unexpectedly, Yuuri snorted.

“That’s way too much trouble,” he told Viktor, strangely amused. “Besides, I can’t be a doctor and do what I do.”

“What do you mean?”

But Yuuri only closed his eyes, all expression vanishing off his face.

“Nothing,” he said dully. “I have weird thoughts, that’s all.”

“I don’t–”

“Are you staying the night?”

Viktor gave an unimpressed scowl that Yuuri didn’t even see, frustrated at the evasion. He knew, though, that he wouldn’t be getting anything else out of Yuuri. His curiosity could wait. It wasn’t worth making Yuuri uncomfortable.

Viktor lay down beside Yuuri, plastering himself to his side.

“Oh wait, you can’t,” Yuuri spoke up before Viktor could, his dismay audible in his voice. “You have to look after Makka.”

Viktor glanced at the time. It was eleven at night. He’d slept at least five hours, but he was still feeling a little drowsy. And Yuuri made a very appealing pillow.

“Makka’s fine,” Viktor replied. “I dropped her at Yakov’s before coming here. Just in case.”

“Just in case I asked you to stay?”

“Yeah. Do you mind?”

“The opposite. I’m happy to have you. I thought that was obvious.”

Viktor smiled and burrowed himself between Yuuri’s arm and torso, pressing himself against the soft warmth of him.

“Still nice to hear it. Let’s sleep now. Good night, my Yuuri.”

There was a soft breath and something brushing the top of his head.

“Sleep well.”

He drifted, oddly fascinated by the rise and fall of Yuuri’s chest. When fingers started playing with the hair at his nape, Viktor swallowed a sigh and pretended at sleep.

“You’re such a pretty h-uh…”

Viktor gasped, then giggled at the nervous stutter in Yuuri’s voice, breaking the façade. He pecked the closest patch of skin, light and fond.

“I like it when you call me pretty.”

Under his arm, Yuuri’s tense form relaxed bit by bit.

“Good,” he said quietly. “You are very pretty. And I like saying it. Sleep now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come and talk to me!


	8. tell me why (every high has a come down)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Viktor’s work life gets busy, his romantic life suffers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my update schedule got delayed by a week, but I’m back and vaguely dead inside.
> 
> In this chapter – and in future chapters – Viktor will erratically switch between using “it” and humanizing pronouns like he/she/they for the demons. This is on purpose, and will be implicitly addressed later on.

“How do I look?” Mila asked, straightening her suit jacket and doing a little twirl.

Viktor watched faithfully, taking in the royal blue suit tailored to her frame and the elegant bun she’d twisted her hair into, leaving her undercut visible for a change. She looked stunning, magnetic.

If Sara were here, she’d have a hard time keeping her hands off Mila long enough to let her do her job, and she would be motivated by one half lust and one half fear. Viktor understood, but he’d been in Mila’s position more times than he could count, playing bait for demons that displayed attraction to men. She’d be fine.

“Ravishing,” Viktor told her with a wink. “Go get her.”

Mila smirked, blue eyes flashing. Then she turned on her heels and stalked into the club.

Viktor watched her until she disappeared, then returned to the car. Chris was in the driver’s seat, thrumming his fingers on the wheel to some unheard melody. Sara was out there, halfway between the club and the demon’s house. The plan was for Mila to get the demon to take her home and for Sara to be there when they arrived, but plans rarely survived enemy contact. That’s why Chris and Viktor were here, waiting, listening.

There wasn’t much to listen to at the moment. The wire concealed under Mila’s jacket only picked up pounding music and the indistinct murmur of too many voices. Viktor quietly wished her luck and leaned back in his seat, eyes closed and ears trained.

He’d long since ceased being nervous for these, but there was tension there, in his mind and body both, tightly wound and begging for an outlet. If all went well, it’d get one. And then he could go home, sleep it off, and meet Yuuri for breakfast the next day, washing away the last of tonight’s taint in his sunny smiles.

Viktor smiled to himself and carefully shut down that train of thought. Yuuri was always distracting, and he couldn’t afford to be distracted now.

His earpiece crackled, Mila’s voice rising and being joined by another’s; their target’s. Viktor listened intently, waiting for any signs of trouble, but got only smooth conversation, a little distorted but audible enough. The demon didn’t seem to find anything suspicious with Mila nor did she seem uninterested. Viktor couldn’t blame her. When Mila set her sights on something, she got it.

“She’s good,” Chris said from beside him, quietly impressed.

“She always is. Is this your first time seeing – well, hearing – her in action?”

“Yep. She’s a smooth demon.”

Chris snickered at his own joke, and Viktor scoffed, shaking his head. Playing bait typically fell to Viktor and Mila, but Chris did it too sometimes. He was a very attractive man and willing to play with demons, but Chris’s idea of flirting had a directness that wasn’t suited to everyone. Viktor was more flexible, could seduce and flatter and charm. And there was a certain sort of pleasure to be had in luring such vicious creatures into following him to their own deaths. He liked to think there was some karmic justice to the whole affair.

Of course, seduction didn’t always work, and it was usually saved for sex-demons, but blunt force was just as reliable, though circumstances were not always ideal for it.

“They’re moving,” Chris murmured after a while.

Viktor caught the tail end of Mila’s conversation.

“…don’t know. Why don’t you take me home?”

There was a laugh, low and sultry and clear. So clear that it made Viktor wonder how close Mila was to the sex-fiend. Their talent was insidious, creeping past barriers of logic and common sense. Even when you knew the attraction was manufactured and dangerous, it was hard to resist. But Mila’s voice remained steady and strong, and Viktor could trust that she knew her limits.

“Why not? Come then.”

Viktor exchanged a glance with Chris. They were just back-up, and fighting inside a house was always tricky, but they’d do their best anyway.

Following Mila and the demon – Alina Matthews, 26 years old, 5’7, brunette, brown eyes, kill count unknown – to the latter’s home without being spotted was an exercise in caution. The little red spot on the GPS blinked steadily, showing Mila getting farther away from them each minute but never so far that they were at risk of losing her.

A few houses from their destination, they saw a familiar motorbike parked on the curb. Sara was already there then.

And sure enough, by the time Viktor barreled in through the open front door, Chris staying behind just in case the demon got past all three of them, the fight was well underway. He closed the door firmly behind him and stepped through the foyer. Mila’s jacket lay discarded on the floor, looking stepped on. He knew exactly how many weapons she’d stashed under that and didn’t think she’d have let the demon take it off her.

The living room was a mess. Sara and Mila stood on one side. There was blood on the floor.

Behind the overturned couch, the demon crouched, lips pulled back from its teeth in a ferocious snarl. There was a long gash on its face, dripping blood down its neck and staining her torn white dress. Furious eyes flicked over to Viktor and a deep growl reverberated through the room. He could see claws where fingers used to be, long and lethal.

Though he was alone and probably the easier target, the demon leapt for Mila instead, darting forward in an impressive display of speed and agility. Outstretched claws missed her throat by a hair’s breadth, and Mila tumbled to the floor, vulnerable for an instant. But Sara was there, covering her, unsheathed knives slashing at the demon. One struck home, tearing open a thin red line from bicep to elbow, but the demon shook it off as if she barely felt the wound. She backed up a few steps and leapt again, almost too fast to follow, and this time, its claws sunk into their target. Sara scrambled back, teeth gritted as blood dripped from her thigh. Nothing vital had been caught, and Mila didn’t let the demon press its advantage, pushing it back with brass-knuckled fists and tightly restrained rage.

Viktor stood watching, fingering his throwing knife and waiting for an opening.

Ironically, it was the demon who gave it to him.

Claws ripped through Mila’s shirt and she stumbled away, Sara at her side the next moment to steady her. The demon crouched, readying itself for another attack.

Viktor’s knife buried itself in her spine.

There was a ragged howl of pain, but it said something about a demon’s physiology that it remained standing. But even a creature so durable couldn’t survive having it heart skewered.

Mila was there suddenly, one of Sara’s knives in her hand. Viktor saw the blade flash for a moment and then it was deep inside the demon’s chest. Blood trickled down the hilt, pooling on the white floorboards.

The demon slumped against Mila. Viktor tensed, ready to rush to her, and Sara was already moving. But the demon just pressed her lips to Mila’s ear, whispered something, and collapsed in a heap.

Skin broke apart, hair shriveled, and several seconds later, there was a pile of dust and a wrinkled dress where the body had been.

Viktor made his way over to Sara and Mila. Broken glass crunched under his boots.

“Nice aim, Viktor,” Mila gasped, one hand pressed to her stomach. Blood welled up between her fingers.

“What’d she say to you?” Sara asked. She seemed to be standing straight on willpower alone. Up close, the wounds on her thigh seemed deeper than he’d thought. Three ragged lines gushed blood, the fabric around them torn and bloodied. They’d both need medical attention.

“I was always a fool for a pretty girl in a suit – that’s what she said.”

Mila sounded very, very tired.

They did first-aid in the car, Viktor disinfecting the wounds and wrapping them in bandages that were stained red all too soon.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t help more,” he murmured.

“It’s fine,” Sara replied, leaning back and closing her eyes. “We all know how it goes. It’s a bit novel, you know? Getting injured. Before, my brother would barely let me fight. He’d jump in the way, sense and strategy be damned. It almost got him killed many times. And then, he took a blow for me and went into a coma. When he woke up, I transferred here. Things are different with you guys. I like doing my part, earning my keep, even with all the danger involved.”

Sara fell quiet after that, leaving as many things unvoiced as otherwise. Viktor didn’t know how to respond so he didn’t.

He saw Mila reach back from the front seat, saw Sara grip her hand with knuckles that had turned white. He looked away.

Chris rapped on the window, having finished his call to Yakov.

“Viktor, you drive. I’ll get Sara’s bike.”

Mila switched seats along with him, joining Sara at the back. Viktor drove in silence.

He took them to the Organization’s clinic first. It was a plain, discreet building, at least from the outside. The inside, as Viktor knew intimately, was quite impressive, though complicated cases often had to be transferred to ‘proper’ hospitals. Sara leaned on him as she limped inside, Mila following sedately.

The young man at the reception recognized Viktor and gave him a wave.

“Anyone remember a hunt that didn’t end in one of these places?” Sara asked once they were inside the examination room. There was a hint of humor in her voice.

“One,” Viktor replied. “Because the demon had a human lookalike and we followed the wrong one. The sensor with us was weak, but he managed to stop us before we killed the poor guy. That was an all round mess.”

Mila snorted, then grimaced like it hurt.

“A human lookalike though? That’s weird.”

“Hmm. They could have been twins. We never caught that demon.”

“Curious,” Sara said, soft and thoughtful. “Maybe they really were twins. It’s happened before, hasn’t it? Demons work in strange ways.”

Then the doctor came, and Viktor ducked out of the room. Sara’s words followed him.

They used to think it was possession, back when religion had been a more significant influence on the Organization. But it was clear soon enough that the creatures they faced weren’t the biblical sort. That didn’t mean they knew what they were or where they came from or why they did what they did. In some ways, possession was as accurate an analogy as any because there had been records of cambions testifying to people becoming demons overnight. But they still had no answers and, despite continued effort, didn’t seem to be getting close to any.

For now, it was enough that they knew how to kill them. They didn’t die as easily as humans, but they did die. Stop the heart or destroy the brain, and what was left was ash and dust. No body to answer for. There were missing reports filed. Grieving families and friends were left unaware of what had lurked among them. But the reports were easily pushed under the rug and the families…the families were better off not knowing the truth anyway.

Some still found out, situations got messy. Everything was resolved, one way or the other.

Viktor was glad he only had to deal with the demons themselves.

After the girls were patched up, he drove them to their apartment and returned to the office. Chris was there and so was Yakov. He gave a verbal report, made a vague promise to submit the typewritten copy on time, and left.

It was three in the morning when he got home. Even Makkachin was too tired to do more than wag her tail lazily at him. He gave her a forehead kiss, sleepwalked his way through a shower, and collapsed in bed.

He was out a second later.

 

* * *

 

Heat and light dragged him out of hazy dreams and into a world that was far too bright. He turned to his side and stuffed his face into the pillow, cursing himself for forgetting to draw the curtains.

He had nearly fallen back to sleep when a cold nose wedged under his arm and nudged his side insistently. _That_ woke him up faster than any alarm.

Makkachin rarely bothered him when he was sleeping and when she did, it was because she was hungry or thirsty. But Viktor had left her enough for dinner and breakfast before he left last night…

He bolted upright. The numbers on his alarm clock sent a cold shock through his blood.

01: 37 pm.

 _Yuuri_.

Viktor scrambled for his phone and almost dropped it at the sight of three missed calls and twelve texts, all from Yuuri.

Two of the calls were from this morning, the other from an hour ago. He couldn’t help but flick through the texts. One was a simple ‘Good night’ from yesterday, another a ‘Good morning’ sent this morning. The rest were all about their breakfast date, brief and scattered and increasingly puzzled. The last ones were:

_Are you okay_

_Please call me_

Guilt rose inside Viktor, thick and suffocating.

Makkachin whined, nosing at his hand.

“Yes, I’m coming, sweetheart. I’m sorry.”

Viktor was calling Yuuri back even as he followed Makkachin into the kitchen.

The phone rang and rang and rang and–

“Viktor?”

There was naked worry in Yuuri’s voice, and Viktor could hear him panting like he’d ran for the phone.

“Yuuri, Yuuri, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I slept through my alarm – no, wait, I never set an alarm. It was late, and I forgot, and I must have been tired, I–”

Viktor ran out of breath before he ran out of excuses. He inhaled deeply, waited for Yuuri to say something, and when there was no reply, he apologized again.

“I’m so sorry.”

“I called you,” Yuuri told him, very softly. “Three times.”

“I saw. I didn’t hear. My phone was on silent.”

He’d turned it off outside the club and never turned it back on.

“Oh,” said Yuuri. “I see. I was…worried.”

“I’m sorry,” Viktor said miserably. “I was looking forward to this morning so much, Yuuri.”

He’d seen Yuuri three days ago, on Thursday during his lunch break, but that had been rushed and too, too brief.

“Yeah,” Yuuri breathed, the sound like a sigh. “Me too.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You already said that,” Yuuri told him, and Viktor imagined there was amusement in his voice. “It’s alright. It happens. I’m no stranger to passing out and not waking up when I needed. Just – try to warn me next time? I was afraid something had happened. With your job…”

“I will, I promise. And – thank you. For worrying. But please don’t. I’ll be alright. The job’s not that dangerous.”

A complete lie, that last part, but Viktor would say anything to get that desolate tone out of Yuuri’s voice.

“Okay,” Yuuri replied. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Yeah,” Viktor said, laughing, nervous and uncomfortable. “I’m just fine. And Yuuri? I can come over? Now?”

“Ahh…”

Viktor couldn’t see, but he could just imagine the way Yuuri was biting his lips.

“I can’t, I’m sorry. I’ll have a client over soon.”

“Even though it’s Sunday?”

“I can’t afford to work only weekdays, Viktor,” Yuuri answered sharply. Viktor winced, wanting to slap himself. “Um, how about tonight.”

Viktor opened his mouth to agree, then remembered that they’d all be meeting at Mila and Sara’s apartment this evening to celebrate Sara’s first successful hunt with them. It was tradition, a bright spot in their bloody lives. He couldn’t skip out.

“I can’t. I promised to meet my friends. Sorry.”

Yuuri huffed a laugh but there wasn’t much humor in it.

“It seems like circumstances have conspired against us. I guess meeting will have to wait.”

“It sucks,” Viktor whined, mouth quirking when Yuuri chuckled on the other end. “I’ll call you. And text. And maybe we can Skype or something?”

“Mmm, sounds good. We’ll meet for lunch too. And sorry, but I have to go now. Talk to you later?”

“Definitely.”

“Okay, bye.”

“Yuuri–”

“Yes?”

“Um, nothing. Nothing. Bye. Later.”

He hung up and went about fixing Makkachin’s lunch. His own could wait until he cleaned up.

Yuuri’s voice and the badly hidden disappointment in it echoed in Viktor’s head. Viktor knew how he felt; his own thoughts of the day lost most of its luster when he realized he wouldn’t be able to see Yuuri. It was his own fault, a mistake caused by considerable exhaustion but still a mistake.

But beyond the immediate dismay, there lurked another fear.

Viktor didn’t want to think about that. It was just one missed date. Yuuri understood. They’d see each other later this week and everything could go back to normal.

“Here we go, Makka. Let’s go for a walk this afternoon, hm?”

Makkachin barked, licked his face, and dug into her food.

 

* * *

 

“Sense anything, Yura?” Viktor asked when Yuri had been silent for a whole ten minutes.

“Of course I do,” Yuri snapped. Viktor spared him a sideways glance and found him leaning his head on the car window, face scrunched up and eyes screwed shut. “There are always demons to sense. Just…none within reach.”

Viktor stifled a sigh of relief. He didn’t want to run across a demon when Yuri was with him. The boy wasn’t allowed to fight yet but was determined not to let that stop him. To be fair, Viktor had been the same at his age. Adulthood had given him a different perspective on the whole matter, but he still understood where Yuri was coming from.

As if reading his mind, Yuri shot him a glare and slumped as much as his seatbelt allowed.

“When are you guys going to let me hunt?”

“Not yet,” Viktor informed him cheerfully. “You’re not even eighteen.”

“I can kick the ass of most eighteen year old hunters.”

“Yes, well, they’re hardly proper hunters. There’s a reason new members are supervised for at least two years. Your situation is special anyway.”

“Because I’m a half-breed,” Yuri muttered contemptuously.

Viktor could feel a headache coming on.

“A _cambion_ , yes. It’s not like you to be unhappy that you’re starting early.”

“Oh, fuck you, geezer. This doesn’t count and you know it. I’m just some glorified radar.”

“Yura,” Viktor said very, very gently. “What you’re doing is important. You know this. Everyone knows this. Cambions are protected because you’re invaluable for the Organization, much more than us regular humans.”

Yuri scoffed. Viktor shot him another look, but Yuri had his head bowed and hair loose, and Viktor couldn’t see his expression past the golden veil of hair.

He changed the subject.

“Are you still sensing?”

“Yeah.”

“How far does your range extent?”

“I can cover nearly half the city,” Yuri answered, his pride audible in his voice. “Everything in a… three mile radius or something is crystal clear. After that, I can’t pinpoint the location, but I can feel them. And there are so many of them, Vitya.”

Viktor was impressed that the range but also scared of the repercussions it could cause.

“That’s amazing, Yura. I’ve never met anyone who could manage that.”

“There isn’t anyone who can do what I do. At least not among the Warriors.”

Viktor flinched but kept his mouth shut. Anyone who drew Yuri’s attention to the fact they preferred to call their organization The Organization was sure to be pelted with the full, proper name for _weeks_.

“They said the Founder was strong enough to cover a whole country. But I’m sure there’s some exaggeration in there. No one could bear that kind of strain.”

If Yuri heard the subtle hint about not taxing himself, he didn’t show it.

“Well, how do we know? Maybe she did and that’s how she died. She was young, wasn’t she? Twenty something.”

“Twenty-six, according to the stories.”

He thought Yuri muttered something like “Badass” under his breath. 

“None of them are close?” Viktor asked again when Yuri relapsed to pained concentration.

“No,” Yuri grunted. He was sweating now.

“Then you can relax. Patrol’s almost over. We’ll try another route next time.”

“Beka’s taking me next time.”

“Alright, I’ll tell him. But stop for now, Yura.”

And to his surprise, Yuri did. Lilia must have been a good influence on him. Well, that or she’d terrified him into obedience. She had that effect on people, human or otherwise.

A few minutes later, Yuri spoke.

“They can sense me too, you know. I can feel them reacting to my touch. Some move farther away. Some lean in. Except none of it is physical. That’s so weird.”

“Not every demon knows that cambions work with the hunters.”

“Yeah, because not every cambion works with the hunters. I’ve heard the stories, Vitya, the official shit and the gossip.”

Viktor was sure he had. Cambions siding with demon wasn’t common, but it wasn’t unheard of either. There were plenty of stories of spies who wreaked havoc within the organizations, and kids who took up arms to protect their demon parents. It always ended in tragedy.

“We all make choices,” Viktor said. “Some choose humans. Some don’t.”

“I don’t get that at all,” Yuri muttered.

Viktor didn’t respond, but he agreed. He couldn’t imagine defending creatures that preyed on innocent people. But he’d been shaped by his own experiences and so had Yuri. There were some things they wouldn’t understand.

“Hey,” Yuri said some time later. “Where the hell are you going? This isn’t the way back home.”

“It’s not. I’m taking you to the house I’ve been watching for the last few weeks. Our last sensor – the one who subbed for you when you were training with Lilia – said there was a demon there. Chris and I have been assigned to them, but they live with two others so we can’t engage them inside, and they’ve given us no opportunities otherwise. You almost wouldn’t know they’re a demon.”

“You haven’t caught it hunting?”

“Nope.”

“So why are we going there? You want me to double-check?”

“If you can. You do keep bragging you’re the best sensor ever.”

“Because I _am_ , asshole. You know it too.”

Viktor did, but ribbing Yuri was too good a pastime to give up.

As he drove through familiar roads, Viktor noted the time. Half past one. They were already late, mostly because Yuri insisted that they patrol longer than they needed so he could test the limits of his ability. Viktor hadn’t put up more than a token protest because Yuri was being exceptionally well-behaved by reining in his power rather than let is spill about all the time, and if he wanted to explore it in a safe, sanctioned way, Viktor wasn’t going to stop him.

This little detour was all Viktor’s fault though. It would delay them by at least another hour, but they could sleep in tomorrow. Yakov wasn’t unreasonable.

Something nagged at his mind, but then they were at their destination, and Viktor had to focus.

The lights in his quarry’s place were out when Viktor parked in his usual spot, one with a decent view of the house but tucked out of sight. He pointed the house out to Yuri, watching him as he closed his eyes and concentrated.

It wasn’t even a few seconds before they flashed open.

“Drive. Get us out of here.”

Viktor didn’t stop to question. Just drove.

Beside him, Yuri was pale and sweating profusely.

“Yura?” Viktor asked, alternately looking between the road and the boy. He also checked if there was anyone following them, but there were only a few other cars, none of which seemed too intent on them.

Still, Viktor drove in circles rather than going straight to Yuri’s home. His companion remained quiet all the while.

“Yura,” Viktor called again once almost half an hour had passed. “Are you okay?”

Yuri shook his head a little violently. Long strands of his hair were plastered to his face.

“It was there,” Yuri told him through gritted teeth. “It was awake and sensed me. And – and it reached back. It’s strong, Vitya, so strong.”

Leo hadn’t reacted this badly to the demon when he had spotted it. Viktor had been there, and he remembered that he’d pursed his lips as if holding back a grimace and quietly confirmed the demon’s existence with something very much like contempt in his voice.

Yuri’s reaction was much more intense. But Yuri was far stronger than Leo. That came with its own pitfalls.

“Would you like to stay with me tonight, Yura?” Viktor asked because ‘Are you okay?’ was sure to be met with an angry non-answer.

Even now, Yuri just stared at him, eyes narrowed suspiciously. Viktor kept his expression blank and his eyes on the road.

“Why?”

“It’s late. And I don’t need to be at work until noon tomorrow, so there’s time to drop you home in the morning before your tutor comes around. I’m sure your family won’t mind.”

Yuri didn’t agree but he didn’t reject the idea, and when Viktor took the turn that would take them to his apartment rather than Yuri’s house, he didn’t complain.

Once inside, Yuri paused just long enough to let Makkachin lick his hand before making a beeline for the guest room. Well, it was practically Yuri’s room. The only other person to ever stay over was Chris, so the room was a curious amalgamation of tiger print and hot pink. Viktor tried his best not to go in there.

He made quick work of winding down for bed, tired though not particularly sleepy.

Settled cozily in bed with Makkachin tucked under one arm, he checked his phone–

–and swore vehemently enough to make her startle.

“Sorry, sorry,” he soothed her, scratching her behind the ears. She forgave him easily enough and squirmed back under his arm.

Yuuri wouldn’t forgive him that easily, would he?

The notification for a missed video call glared accusingly at him from his screen; the same call he and Yuuri had scheduled for _midnight_. Viktor had even reminded Yuuri of it this morning, excited at the thought of seeing him, even if on a screen rather than in person.

God, he was such an idiot.

Yuuri was last online half an hour ago. Viktor didn’t want to call and risk waking him up if he was asleep, so he texted.

 

* * *

 

It wasn’t fine. The universe hated Viktor.

“Two weeks,” he repeated numbly, gazing blankly at Yakov’s bald spot. “Bodyguard job for two weeks.”

“Yes,” Yakov confirmed, gruff and unsympathetic. “She says the kid’s well-behaved so it shouldn’t be a problem.”

Viktor just blinked at him. An arm came around him – Chris – and Viktor slumped against him as he and Yakov hashed out the details.

Their private security firm was mostly a cover, but they sometimes picked up contracts on that front too. They needed to fund themselves. Demon hunting paid well; people needed some kind of incentive to risk their lives day after day. Righteous rage and moral duty only drove the rare few. Viktor himself confessed to having lost most of the idealism of his youth. Most of them had, Yuri and Georgi being two exceptions.

The Organization’s offices were scattered all over the world disguised as all kinds of businesses. And most people who worked in each could passingly do their part of the cover. Viktor had always thought that he lucked out in that regard because it at least made use of skills he already had, but at the moment, he was seriously questioning that conviction.

Looking after a teenage boy whose very rich mother had made some persistent enemies was fine. They were only keeping an eye on the kid while the police tracked out the people who’d threatened him in the first place.

It was the duration that got to Viktor.

He hadn’t been able to spend quality time with Yuuri since their ill-fated breakfast date. It was bad enough that Viktor had missed their Skype call a few days later. They’d made up for that the next morning via phone. Viktor had been late for work, and it had been worth it. But he had yet to actually see Yuuri.

Tomorrow was Sunday, and Yuuri had promised to visit, and Viktor had been determined to spend his lunch breaks with Yuuri each day next week.

With a handful of words, Yakov had ruined all of that.

Briefly, Viktor considered protesting or asking that someone else, Sara maybe, take his place. But one look at Yakov’s expression told him that wouldn’t work, not unless Viktor gave him a damn good reason for it. He had one, of course, but it wasn’t the sort that grumpy Yakov, whose belief in silly things like love and romance had withered once Lilia divorced him, would ever accept.

No one here had even met Yuuri anyway. After the fiasco with Yuri, Viktor had been wary of pushing his boyfriend. But if this kept up, Viktor wouldn’t need anyone’s help to drive Yuuri away. He’d do it himself.

And that was his greatest fear.

He left Yakov’s office as fast as he could, dodging Chris’s questions and leaving the building. He made his way up the roof, phone already in hand and pressed to his ear.

Yuuri picked up on the second call.

“Sorry, I was in the bathroom. Didn’t hear you. Hey.”

“Hi,” Viktor greeted, smiling in spite of everything at Yuuri’s voice. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” Yuuri returned, soft and sincere. “I’ll see you soon.”

And just like that, Viktor’s momentary good mood evaporated.

“Ah, well, you see…”

The words stuck in his throat. The silence on the other end somehow managed to be ominous.

Viktor closed his eyes and finished in a rush.

“I’m being sent off on bodyguard work. I’m leaving soon, and it’s for two weeks, and I won’t be home.”

“Oh.”

Yuuri sounded far too quiet.

“I’m sorry.”

Viktor had been saying that a lot recently. It never felt enough.

He could hear Yuuri breathe, fast and ragged.

“It’s fi – you know, when I said circumstances were conspiring against us, I didn’t think the world would take it as a challenge.”

Viktor gave a weak chuckle.

“Tell me about it.”

“If you’re gone so long, who’ll care for Makka?”

“Yakov will take care of her. Yura will help sometimes. She’ll be fine. Unless you want to…?”

“I do,” Yuuri said and the blankness with which he’d addressed Viktor was gone when it came to Makkachin, fondness taking its place. Maybe Yuuri would stick around, if only for his dog.

“Alright, then–”

“I can’t though. I’m leaving for my parents’ place on Tuesday. I won’t be back till next week. I was going to tell you tomorrow. But well…”

“Damn,” Viktor breathed, biting back worse curses. “I had so many plans for the week, Yuuri.”

“Mm. Me too.”

“All ruined.”

“It happens.”

“Aren’t you upset?”

“Of course I am,” Yuuri said, but he didn’t sound upset, just empty.

“Yuuri…”

“Yes, Viktor?”

“You aren’t angry at me, are you?”

“No,” Yuuri answered after a beat. “I’m not. I know this isn’t your fault.”

“I – thank you. For understanding. And I’m – you know I want nothing more than to see you.”

“Yeah. I know. I wanted to see you too.”

Viktor tried to cling to those words and the genuine affection with which Yuuri said them.

“We’ll still call and stuff, alright?”

“Alright. You should go pack.”

“Okay.”

“Mmm. Okay.”

“Bye, Yuuri.”

“Goodbye, Viktor.”

For a few minutes, Viktor stared at the phone in his hands. Yuuri’s face smiled at him from the screen, sweet and shy.

Then he swallowed his doubts and left the way he came.

 

* * *

 

The days crawled by.

Their ward wasn’t troublesome, and while definitely put off about being followed around by two men all the time, Jake didn’t overtly complain. It was more understanding than Viktor had expected from a fifteen year old kid, but he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Their accommodations were nice and cozy, not that he was in any state to enjoy them. Chris seemed to have a better time of it, but he wasn’t one to slack off on a job so Viktor didn’t worry. The occasional security work Yakov assigned them wasn’t as nerve-wracking as demon hunting, but that was no excuse for a subpar performance.

Viktor was still miserable, but he hid it under bright smiles and jokes that sometimes made Jake smile.

Chris may have seen through it, but he didn’t comment.

He kept in contact with Yuuri, calls and texts and video conversations that were always too short and never enough. There was something off there too, and it terrified Viktor when he let himself think about it.

Thirteen days later, the universe smiled down on Viktor.

He didn’t know or care much about the details except that those who’d attacked their client had been caught and dealt with, freeing Viktor and Chris from their contract a few days early.

Viktor wanted nothing more than to go home, get Makka, and run to Yuuri, but Yakov had other ideas.

In his defense, Viktor tried to sit still and listen intently as Yakov filled them in on what happened when they were gone, what new demons had been spotted, how many had been eliminated, and how much more paperwork they had.

Except, well, he hadn’t been any good at patiently lending an ear as Yakov droned on even when he wasn’t practically buzzing to get to his dog and his boyfriend. It didn’t help that he already knew what had happened while they were gone. Yuri had kept him informed and what he missed, Mila provided. It had been a quiet couple of weeks apparently. The demon Otabek had been keeping an eye on had fled the city and they’d lost track of it, but outside of that, nothing exciting had happened. Viktor’s target, temporarily surveyed by Sara, remained as unobtrusive as ever.

Yakov lasted a whole seven minutes before he snapped.

“Viktor! Get your head out of the clouds, boy.”

Viktor gave him a blinding grin.

“But Yakov, it’s so nice and calm up here. Quiet too.”

Beside him, Chris smothered a snigger, badly. Yakov’s glare swept over to him, but Chris had a face like an angel and knew how to use it.

The vein on Yakov’s temple started throbbing in that way that usually had people backing away.

“Get out of my office,” Yakov snarled. “And Vitya, go home and don’t let me see you face in here until Monday. You too, Chris.”

Viktor blinked. He’d bet that Chris was equally surprised. That was the opposite of punishment, and Yakov knew it.

The two of them just remained in their seats, gaping at Yakov. That vein was becoming even more prominent.

“Go,” Yakov growled. “Before I change my mind and set you two patrolling for the next decade.”

They fled.

“That was strange,” Chris commented once they were out of the danger zone. Rather than go to his own cubicle and get his stuff, he followed Viktor to his office. “Think Yakov’s finally lost it?”

“He’s very soft and squishy inside,” Viktor told him absently, looking over his desk to check if there was anything he needed to take home.

“Right.”

He expected Chris to leave. He didn’t.

Viktor finished his quick survey and turned to him, lifting an eyebrow.

“Yes?”

“You going to tell me what’s bothering you now?”

“Hmm? Nothing’s bothering me.”

Chris managed to exude skepticism without once changing his expression.

“Really,” Viktor insisted. “It’s just…I miss Yuuri.”

“And I miss Masumi. You don’t see me moping about like my husband’s gone to war.”

“Wha – Yuuri’s not my–” Viktor sputtered, realizing a moment too late that Chris hadn’t exactly said that. “Anyway. I’m not moping.”

“And my hair’s naturally this color.”

Viktor gave Chris a long look that was countered with a serene smile. Giving up, he backed own and dropped hard into his chair. Chris followed, hopping on Viktor’s desk and sitting cross-legged.

“I thought Masumi was just a booty call,” Viktor said, speaking before Chris could ask any questions.

“He is and an exceptional one at that.”

Now, it was Viktor’s turn to call bullshit. Chris’s smile softened a bit.

“Who knows, he might be more. I don’t know. But we’re not talking about me. I didn’t ask before because I didn’t want to distract you any more than you already were–”

“I wasn’t distracted!”

Chris rolled his eyes very loudly.

“Right. So spill. What’s going on? You were practically glowing after you got together with this Yuuri. And need I remind you that I still haven’t met him? No one else has either. Yuri ranted a lot about him when we asked, but he doesn’t seem to have seen the guy either.”

“Yuuri’s shy,” Viktor lied, not wanting to get into details about that morning. That felt like betraying Yuuri. “And if I’ve been glowing, it’s because he makes me very happy.”

“That’s cute, really, but still doesn’t answer my question. Did you two fight or something? Because Viktor, you’ve been _moping_.”

Viktor smiled tightly, clamping down on a spark of irritation. Chris was only trying to help.

But he really didn’t want to have this conversation.

“Listen, Chris, it’s fine. No, we haven’t been fighting. It’s just that work has been keeping me from seeing him for weeks, and I hate it. I forgot our dates, cancelled plans at the last moment. He says it’s fine, but I’m not so sure. We have to work it out. That’s all.”

Chris stared intently at him. Viktor met his gaze calmly.

“Alright. I get it. Go talk it out. It’s weird, you know.”

“What is?”

“I’ve seen you go much longer without seeing your boyfriends, and you were just fine. Remember that hunter guy from France? You two dated long-distance for, what, eight months?”

“Six,” Viktor corrected. He remembered Raison, with his wicked smile and filthy tongue. They should have stopped at a one night stand and never tried for more. It was the first and last time Viktor had broken his rule of not dating colleagues. “And that was different.”

“Oh? How so?”

Viktor struggled to find an answer to that, one that wasn’t ‘It’s Yuuri.’ He failed.

“It just is. Yuuri’s special. And Raison was just a good lay in the end. Now excuse me, I got to get Makka and see if Yuuri can meet me at home. Maybe I can tempt him over with dinner.”

“Fine, fine, don’t let me keep you,” Chris said, tone bland but eyes amused as he watched Viktor go. “And Viktor?”

Viktor stopped and looked over his shoulder.

“Take care of yourself.”

He relaxed a bit, smiling.

“I will. Thank you, Chris.”

 

* * *

 

Viktor’s mind behaved until he was inside his car.

Then, everything he hadn’t told Chris came rushing back. He gripped the wheel hard and bent to rest his head on it, breathing deeply.

It was true. Yuuri was special. But Viktor hadn’t been completely uninvested in his previous relationships. He’d never been in love, but he’d liked them all. He wasn’t in love with Yuuri either, but he could so easily imagine it and that was as terrifying as it was exhilarating.

But he’d never forgotten that he’d been the one to drive all his lovers away. Some relationships, he’d ended himself. Others had left him. Most had been quiet. A few had been anything but.

And each time, there had been one constant; Viktor’s work.

He had secrets that weren’t his to share and a duty that owned his soul. People didn’t like that, he’d found. And Viktor had always chosen to let them go rather than trouble either of them further. He hadn’t regretted any of it because he knew it had been the right thing to do. There had only been two men who were hunters themselves; one the boy he’d trained with who’d looked at Viktor with stars in his eyes until he realized he’d never be better than Viktor. They’d fallen apart quickly after that. The other had been Raison, the smooth devil of a Frenchman, but he and Viktor had grown bored of each other quickly once they were on different continents.

Yuuri was different from them all. He was reserved, but with flashes of daring that left Viktor breathless for more reasons than one. He was sweet too, and unintentionally so, with little thoughtless words and actions that made Viktor ache to cling to him and never let go. He never seemed to think Viktor was too much or clingy, only ever watched him with amusement and fondness in his eyes. And gods, he adored Viktor’s dog as much he adored Viktor, and he didn’t know how he’d found a man so perfect.

It was almost too good to be true, Viktor knew that, but he didn’t care.

He was terrified of losing Yuuri.

But the last several days, with work digging its claws into him and tearing him away from Yuuri, had been hard. Viktor didn’t know if he was imagining the cracks; the stilted, cold, empty spaces where once there had been smooth conversation and so much warmth.

He hoped he was.

 

* * *

 

Makkachin was happy to see him again, and Viktor spent nearly half an hour with her on Yakov’s floor, being showered with love and returning the favor. She looked good, maybe a little thicker than when he’d left her. Yakov really did spoil her.

On the way home, with Makkachin happily panting on the passenger’s seat, Viktor called Yuuri.

He didn’t pick up.

Viktor’s stomach felt oddly hollow.

He drove on.

Yuuri called back just as he stepped inside, and Viktor nearly slammed his head into a wall trying to answer it.

“Yuuri! Yuuri, hi.”

“Viktor,” Yuuri answered, much calmer. “How are you?”

“I’m good, great. Hey, Yuuri, listen. I’m home, the job finished early, and I just got here, and well…”

He trailed off.

“Yes?” Yuuri prompted.

“Do you think – could you come over? I’d like to see you, and well, talk.”

For a long moment, there was silence. And then a soft sigh.

Viktor didn’t like that sound.

“Of course,” Yuuri told him, voice quiet with none of the excitement Viktor had expected. “Give me thirty minutes.”

He hung up.

He stared at his phone and stared at Makkachin, who stared back with happy eyes that held no answers.

Viktor had a bad feeling about this.

Or, maybe, he was just exhausted after two weeks of constant vigilance and too little sleep and was just seeing monsters in the shadows.  

Viktor couldn’t quite convince himself of that, but all the same, he freshened up, changed his clothes, and chose brushing Makkachin over pacing in the living room. Her presence was soothing, and he only left her side once was she was happily asleep, not wanting to disturb her.

He hovered in the foyer, eyes on the time.

He opened the door at the first knock.

Yuuri’s startled eyes met his, both of them frozen on either side of the threshold.

Viktor’s fears receded to the background as he drank in Yuuri, real and solid before him, more beautiful than his mind or his phone screen could capture. Viktor wanted to hold him tight and let the last weeks’ frustrations just melt away.

But Yuuri moved first.

A hand fisted in Viktor’s collar and then he was stumbling back, Yuuri’s body colliding against his. He blurrily saw Yuuri kick the door shut and then there were hands in Viktor’s hair, rough and frantic as they seized fistfuls of hair and yanked him down to a kiss.

Yuuri’s mouth was hot and searing, and Viktor opened up to him with a ragged moan, all the need he’d suppressed pouring out of him.

His back hit the wall, and Yuuri’s teeth dug into his tongue, and Viktor was writhing, fire and desperation burning through his veins. Stars burst behind his lids, white and dizzying.

Yuuri kissed him, stole his breath, and stunned his thoughts.

And Viktor kissed back until shadows crept into his vision and pulled him into the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s not that I plan these cliffhangers, they just happen.
> 
> ...you can scream at me again?


	9. nothing lasts forever (but this is gonna take me down)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for that Talk™

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that we're nearing 10 chapters, I figure I should clarify something. For all that I joke around, I am not stretching out the mystery of Yuuri for shits and giggles (or to torture you.) A very solid foundation to Viktor and Yuuri’s relationship is imperative to the future events of this story. The plot hinges on it. Before we learn what Yuuri’s secrets are and whether he’s human, we have a lot of relationship building to get through.
> 
> And before you ask, no one complained to me or anything. This is just pre-emptive action on my part, to make it clear that I’m not dragging out the reveal for no reason.

Viktor woke to a dark room.

There was a long moment of disorientation. He blinked, trying in vain to penetrate the darkness, and felt around him, relieved when he found himself in his own bed, stripped down to his underwear and tucked under the covers.

A part of him wanted to turn on the lights and get up, but the rest cringed at the very thought of it. Momentary confusion aside, he felt good, pleasantly drowsy in that way that had him melting back against the mattress and shifting around until he found a position that made him sigh.

He closed his eyes, intent on a few more minutes of sleep.

When he opened them again, he had a feeling that much more than a few minutes had passed. The room was still dark, lights off and curtains drawn, but Viktor’s eyes adjusted until he could make out familiar shapes.

He was alone. No Makkachin. No Yuuri.

Yuuri…he’d been real, right? Viktor hadn’t imagined that, had he?

Yuuri at his doorstep, pouncing on Viktor like a starving man; it felt real, a memory and not a dream. The heat of their kiss was the last thing he remembered. But Viktor had woken at least three times the last week from dreams of soft words and clever hands, and the disappointment of realizing it had all been in his head was still vivid.

But Viktor was home now, nestled cozily in his own bed and feeling refreshed in a way that suggested he’d slept off days of exhaustion in a long stretch that he might regret later.

There was no regret now, only satisfaction. Having Yuuri here would make it so much better.

“Yuuri?” Viktor called, deciding he had nothing to lose by trying. He sat up, sheets pooling at his waist. “Yuuri, are you here?”

“Yes.”

It was barely a whisper, and despite his hope, Viktor was startled, heart thumping hard in his chest as he froze in place. He looked wildly around the room, gaze settling on the corner by the windows just as a dark shape detached itself from the shadows.

“Yuuri?”

“Viktor. It’s me.”

Viktor pressed a hand to his chest and tried to regulate his breathing.

“God, you startled me.”

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri replied, sounding a far more contrite than was warranted.

Viktor frowned, peering at him, but Yuuri’s features were still in shadows. He didn’t come any closer either. Viktor didn’t take his eyes off Yuuri as he reached beside him to fumble about until he found one of his bedside lamps and turned it on.

The sudden influx of light, low as it was, made him flinch and squeeze his eyes shut. He blinked rapidly, trying to shake off the discomfort, and caught glimpses of Yuuri hiding his face in his arm.

“Sorry,” Viktor mumbled, looking at Yuuri with squinting eyes. He was sure he looked very unattractive. “Should have warned you.”

“It’s fine,” Yuuri mumbled, warily dropping the arm shielding his face. He grimaced but shook it off and stepped around the bed to sit by Viktor’s legs.

Viktor beckoned him closer, scooting to the side so that there was enough space for Yuuri to lie beside him. Yuuri visibly hesitated, teeth sinking into his bottom lip as his eyes flicked between his lap and the bed. They briefly settled on Viktor’s face, and he put on his best pleading expression. He didn’t know how effective it would be with his face all puffy from sleep and eyes probably red from where he’d rubbed it, but it seemed to do the trick.

Yuuri stood and crept closer until he was at the head of the bed. He idled there for a moment, shifting on his feet, before leaning down to flick off the lamp. Viktor couldn’t see in the sudden darkness, but he felt Yuuri join him. He lifted the covers and drew them over Yuuri, rolling towards him until they were pressed close. Yuuri made a quiet little sound when Viktor threw an arm and a leg over him, but reached back almost instantly, pulling Viktor even closer.

“Hey,” Viktor greeted, pressing a kiss to Yuuri’s hair.

“Viktor,” Yuuri said. “How are you feeling?”

“Good. Tired, but a nice kind of tired. You know?”

Yuuri’s response was a vague hum which hinted that he did not, in fact, know.

“I didn’t know how tired I was, but I must have been exhausted if I…”

And just like that, Viktor remembered exactly how their kiss had ended. His face froze into a rictus of horror.

“Hot fuck, I passed out when you kissed me.”

“Er–”

“ _I’m so sorry_.”

Come to think of it, maybe he should have played it off like he’d swooned at Yuuri’s kissing prowess, but he’d survived having sex with the man more times than he could count, so he didn’t know how credible an excuse that would be. Not to mention that he had no idea how long he’d been asleep.

“Sorry, Yuuri, it’s just been a really long few weeks, and I must have been more tired than I realized, I never meant, you know I’d never–”

Two fingers pressed against his lips, halting the nervous torrent of words.

“Viktor, it’s fine,” Yuuri told him, soft and oddly pensive, but leaving no room for argument. “It’s not your fault.”

“Well, maybe, but it wasn’t fair to you,” Viktor replied, hyperaware of his lips moving against Yuuri’s fingers with each word. “I just – what, fainted on you? Shit, that must have freaked you out.”

Yuuri was silent for too long. But when Viktor tried to speak again, Yuuri’s fingers pressed against his mouth in a very obvious request for patience so he kept quiet and waited, stomach fluttering nervously.

Questions flitted through his head. How long had he been asleep? Had Yuuri stayed with him all the while? Where was Makkachin? Was Yuuri scared? How had he managed to get Viktor in bed–

Holy shit, had Yuuri carried him here?

Arousal seemed very inappropriate for the moment, so Viktor tucked that thought away to contemplate later.

“I was…not freaked out,” Yuuri said finally. It sounded like a lie, weak and wavering, but Yuuri continued before Viktor could call him out on it. “I was worried. That’s all. And it wasn’t your fault. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“What, kissed me? Hey, now, that’s not fair to you. Or me actually. Kisses are great. Kissing you especially.”

Viktor kissed Yuuri’s temple for emphasis. He expected it to get him a laugh or maybe a return kiss, but Yuuri suddenly went still.

“It’s…not so simple.”

“What do you mean?”

But Yuuri didn’t answer. He turned in Viktor’s arms and burrowed into him, the abruptness of it pulling a gasp from him. He welcomed Yuuri by instinct, adjusting his hold so that Yuuri was wrapped tight and secure in his arms. Viktor could feel his breaths on his throat, hot and a little too fast.

His own mind was a whirl of fresh confusion, but Yuuri seemed to be dealing with…something, and Viktor didn’t want to force him. It was soothing regardless to have Yuuri like this, warm and close.

It was a long time before Yuuri spoke. Viktor spent the time listening to him breathe.

Untangling from Yuuri left him cold and bereft, but Yuuri seemed determined to put some distance between them, and Viktor had to let go. He didn’t go far, just enough that they were separate entities rather than one mass of entwined limbs.

“Viktor, can I ask you something?”

“Yes? Of course.”

“I – if you were going to leave – leave me, you would tell me, wouldn’t you?”

Viktor heard the question, heard it loud and clear, but it was so unexpected, so appalling that he had no answer for it, no response at all beyond the panicked quickening of his breath.

“You would be honest about it, right? You wouldn’t just drift away and expect me to figure it out. Right?”

Viktor’s heart was pounding, fear and confusion wrapping tight around it. He swallowed, the sound audible, and forced himself to speak.

“Yuuri.” His voice was hoarse and whispery. “What are you talking about?”

There was an aborted movement from Yuuri, his shadowed shape jerking and the sheets shifting. Viktor thought he felt the ghost of a touch on his arm, but if Yuuri had reached out, then he reversed the motion before Viktor could catch it.

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri said after a few, strained minutes. He sounded miserable. “I thought – I don’t know, I just – you were always gone. And it made sense at first. It was fine. But then I wondered if – if that was your way of hinting to me that you wanted us to be over. And I didn’t want to believe it, I didn’t, but it kept happening for weeks, and I just…”

Yuuri trailed off, the last whisper fading into nothing.

Viktor got the gist of it, listening with ice spreading through his veins.

“You thought I was lying,” he said into the pregnant silence. It was impressive how empty his voice was.

Yuuri said nothing. He didn’t need to.

And the worst thing – the worst thing was that Yuuri was _right_.

Not the reasoning he’d applied, never that, because Viktor had never wanted anything less than he wanted to leave Yuuri, but he couldn’t deny the truth underlying Yuuri’s assumptions. Viktor was lying, everyday, again and again. Lies, lies, lies. White lies, if he wanted to be generous about it, but he’d heard enough horror stories about other hunters’ relationship to know that friends and lovers rarely reacted well to the knowledge that they’d been kept in the dark for so long.

But he couldn’t tell Yuuri the truth either.

He swallowed the bitterness coating his tongue and spoke.

“I’m sorry I made you think that. I never meant to. I never…”

“No, no,” Yuuri cut in, desperate verging on frantic. “Stop. This isn’t your fault. It’s mine. I’m an idiot. I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to leave me.”

That pierced through the frost numbing Viktor, brought forth a spark of anger.

“Do you want me to?” Viktor asked, sharp enough to cut.

“Of course not,” Yuuri replied, less heated than resigned. “But it might be for the best after, well.”

“After what? Some doubt? Do you really think my feelings for you are that weak?”

Viktor realized his folly the moment he uttered the question. Yuuri had somehow sensed his lies and thought they were because Viktor wanted to leave him. It wasn’t fair. Viktor had been trying hard to phrase his words so that there was truth in there, just not the whole truth. Work had kept him late, just not the kind of work Yuuri thought he did. And the last two weeks had been the complete truth for a change. But maybe it didn’t matter when Viktor was diligently keeping such a huge part of who he was from Yuuri. He was a good liar, and he knew it, but Yuuri had seen through him in many other ways. This shouldn’t be so surprising.

There was a layer of pleasure under all the alarm, a kind of visceral satisfaction at being seen, but it was subdued at the moment, buried under all the fear.

Everything felt fragile now. One wrong move and it would all come tumbling down.

“They’re not,” Viktor said when Yuuri seemed disinclined to respond. “Yuuri, they’re _not_.”

“Okay.”

“It doesn’t sound okay.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop that. It’s not your fault.”

“Yes, it is.”

Viktor wanted to shake him.

He settled for reaching over, hesitant when his fingers found Yuuri rigid under his touch. He hovered, uncertain, but Yuuri didn’t move or push him away, so he gently rested his hand on his shoulder.

“Is this okay?” he asked, not bothering to hide his nervousness.

“Yes,” Yuuri answered, curt. And then softer, “Yes.”

“It really was work, Yuuri. I’m sorry, but it was such a hectic mess, and I couldn’t warn you, but I wasn’t trying to get rid of you. Never, I’d never – I like you so much, it scares me sometimes. I don’t want to ruin this, _us_.”

“Viktor…I’m scared too.”

“Because of me?”

“No, no. It’s me. My fault. I–”

“It’s not. I understand why you thought that. And I’m – hurt, a little, that you thought I’d do that to you, but I’m part of the problem too. Just…please don’t leave.”

There was a sharp inhale from Yuuri.

“It might be for the best if I did.”

“Yuuri–”

“But I’m too selfish to do that.”

Viktor didn’t know how to make sense of that. He wanted to see Yuuri, but he was lying between Viktor and the lamp, and he had a feeling that Yuuri much preferred to do this in the darkness.

“Be selfish,” Viktor finally said, voice choked with emotion. He took a deep breath, and then another, struggling for a measure of composure. “Please. Be selfish. I want you to be.”

“You don’t even know what you’re asking.”

“Then _tell_ me.”

Was it unfair for him to demand that of Yuuri when Viktor himself was still hiding things? Maybe. Probably.

He’d apologize one day.

Yuuri didn’t respond immediately. He inched closer though, stopping only when his hand brushed Viktor’s chest. Viktor didn’t release his own hold, just swept down until it was resting on Yuuri’s waist.

“Viktor, it’s not you. I’m – I have a hard time trusting people. They’re always so…different, from what they seem. Always. I know I shouldn’t let that get to my personal relationships, but sometimes, I can’t help it. I’m sorry.”

He didn’t know what people Yuuri was talking about and in the relief of Yuuri’s doubts being more general than specific to Viktor, he was in no mood to care. He could work with this, fix this.

“I’m sorry too. I should have managed work a little better. I’m used to it being just Makka and me, you know? And I think – well, I guess I’m used to relationships slipping from my grasp too, no matter what I do. I should have tried harder. You’re not like anyone else, Yuuri. You’re special. To me. I want you to know that.”

Yuuri gave a trembling sigh.

“You’re special to me too,” he whispered.

The smile that crossed Viktor’s lips was a faint, fragile thing, but he held on to it and the renewed hope blooming in his chest.

“Will we be okay, Yuuri?”

Yuuri cupped his face, caressing gently before sliding back to rest over his nape.

“I hope so. I don’t want to lose you, even if…”

“Even if?” Viktor prompted.

“Nothing. I’m sorry I fucked this up.”

“Oh, Yuuri, no. You didn’t.”

Yuuri’s silence managed to be disbelieving.

“Come here?” Viktor asked, tugging gently in suggestion rather than demand.

Yuuri complied, moving closer until their faces were an inch away. Viktor leaned in and brushed the tip of his nose against Yuuri’s, a comfort intended for them both. Yuuri’s fingers dug a little harder into his neck, and his rough exhale fell hot on Viktor’s mouth.

“We’ll be fine,” Viktor told him, nuzzling a little. It was good to be able to touch Yuuri, to have him warm and solid and close. “Just fine.”

“Alright,” Yuuri breathed. He didn’t sound so resigned now. “We can – yeah.”

Viktor kissed him, gentle and tentative, but Yuuri was soft and plaint under his lips, sighing into their kiss with something like relief. A thought broke into Viktor’s newfound bliss, and he pulled back a few inches.

“Yuuri? Did you really come here thinking I was going to break up with you?”

He felt rather than saw Yuuri’s shrug.

“Kind of. You said you wanted to talk. That sounded ominous, though only because I was already thinking weird thoughts.”

“I didn’t mean it like _that_.”

“I know that. Now.”

“How long was I out?”

“Uh…a while? It’s almost morning, isn’t it?”

Viktor peeked over Yuuri, and found his alarm clock spelling out 04:54 in glowing blue letters. The room was still dark.

“Huh. Quite a while. You were looking after me all this time?”

“Mm. I fed Makka. She was here until around midnight.”

“I toss around a lot. It disturbs her. Makka’s an old girl now, she needs her beauty sleep.”

Yuuri chuckled. Viktor internally thrilled at drawing that sound out of him.

“Hey, Yuuri?”

“Yes?”

“It’s kind of sweet. You thought I was going to break up with you and still kissed me like that. I’m sorry I fainted in the midd – Yuuri?”

Yuuri had gone eerily still, not even seeming to breathe.

“I–”

Viktor waited, puzzled more than anything.

“I just wanted to keep you somehow. I wasn’t thinking straight.”

There was an odd note in his voice, something Viktor couldn’t decipher, but his words were strangely pleasing.

“Keep me, hm? Would you? I’d like that.”

Yuuri made a strangled noise, halfway between a laugh and a yelp.

“ _Viktor_.”

“What?” Viktor asked, laughing a little. “I’m only being honest.”

“That doesn’t make it sound any better.”

“Why not? You said you wanted to keep me! So keep me.”

Yuuri huffed again. He pulled away from Viktor, but before he could properly process the absence, the light was back, assaulting Viktor’s eyes. He screwed them shut, turning his face into the pillow.

“Oops, fuck, sorry,” Yuuri said, patting Viktor on the back and head.

“Warn a guy,” Viktor grumbled, mostly muffled by the pillow.

He peeked back at Yuuri and found him smiling almost helplessly down at Viktor. He reached for him, fingers trailing over his cheeks and nose before plucking the glasses out of his face, setting them carefully on the far edge of the bed. Yuuri blinked a little, squinting for a moment before the frown smoothed out.

“Pretty,” Viktor murmured, pulling Yuuri down to him. Yuuri ended up looming over him, one arm braced by Viktor’s head.

“Did you mean it?” Yuuri asked, cheeks a faint pink, eyes determined.

“Mean what?” Viktor asked, rightly distracted by the look in Yuuri’s bared eyes.

“That you want me to keep you.”

“Mmm yeah.”

“You’re a person, you know.”

Viktor shrugged.

“Well, I’m not asking for chains and a collar,” he said, enjoying it more than he should when Yuuri turned red and started sputtering. “Just – this. Stay with me, stay close.”

Yuuri’s eyes softened.

“I’d love to.”

Viktor’s mouth curved into a heart.

“Kiss me, Yuuri.”

Yuuri did, pressing his mouth to Viktor’s soft and lingering. Viktor had forgotten, in the rush of conversation, that he had been separated from Yuuri for weeks and hadn’t had him close except for that frantic, ill-fated kiss last night. His body remembered, arching into Yuuri with abandon, bare skin tingling in anticipation of a touch that had yet to come. Yuuri was overdressed but it was still bliss when he lay atop Viktor, pinning him to the mattress and kissing him deeper.

“Morning breath,” Viktor mumbled, pulling away with heat flaring on his face. Yuuri mumbled something against his chin, peppering kisses along Viktor’s jaw, sharp and teasing with teeth that dug in hard enough to draw a hiss from him. A hand caressed his cheek and gently turned his head back into the kiss. Yuuri’s tongue slipped past his lips with no hesitation, and that was enough of an answer anyway. Viktor closed his eyes and lost himself in Yuuri.

By the time they came up for breath, Viktor was panting and flushed and every inch of his body was wide awake. Yuuri shifted so he was lying beside Viktor, the two of them facing each other, and slid his hand down Viktor’s body, along the dip of his waist and the jut of his hips, palming his ass with a gentle squeeze before cupping the bulge in his groin. Viktor kept his reaction to a violent exhale that Yuuri kissed right off his lips. He massaged Viktor’s cock through his briefs, keeping the pressure light, deliberately teasing.

Viktor moaned into Yuuri’s mouth, moving insistently into the touch and biting back a whine when Yuuri’s hand abruptly left his cock.

“Cruel,” Viktor complained, breaking their kiss. “Weeks, Yuuri. I’ve been _deprived_.”

“So have I,” Yuuri said in a voice that said he was carefully containing laughter.

“Then why are you teasing?”

Yuuri hummed, licking a wet stripe down Viktor’s throat. He shuddered, eyes fluttering close when Yuuri sucked on the sensitive spot at the base.

“You said it yourself,” Yuuri replied when he surfaced. “I’m cruel.”

“I can’t believe you got me in bed just to torture me–” Viktor stopped abruptly, a thought from before boomeranging back to slam into him. His next words were high and breathless. “Yuuri, did you carry me here?”

“Huh?” Yuuri eased off his assault to Viktor’s neck and leaned back to better see his face. “After you, uh, fainted, you mean? Yeah.”

Viktor went very quiet.

“That–” he said after a long pause during which any blood that remained in his head rushed to his dick. “–is so hot.”

Yuuri made a garbled noise.

“You should do that again,” Viktor suggested, deceptively mild. “When I’m awake for it. I’ll be very appreciative. _Very_.”

Yuuri made that sound again, and Viktor would be concerned except that the next moment, Yuuri was kissing him like he wanted to eat Viktor alive and that left precious little room for thought.

Naked as he was save for a scrap of fabric that barely covered his hard cock, Viktor was far too aware of Yuuri’s clothes, rubbing against his skin. It wasn’t the most pleasant sensation, but there was something to be said for being so bare and vulnerable in the grasp of a man who himself was fully clothed. Viktor absently filed that away as something to explore later and tugged at Yuuri’s shirt.

Yuuri took a while to take the hint, and even then, he was reluctant to pry himself away from Viktor’s mouth. That was flattering enough that Viktor didn’t rush him, though maybe that had more to do with how hard it was for him to let go of Yuuri long enough to let him to undress.

Yuuri didn’t leave the bed, all but tearing off his shirt and taking off his jeans while flat on his back, the whole ordeal a struggle that was the farthest from attractive and also the most endearing thing Viktor had ever witnessed.

It was probably telling that he found virtually everything Yuuri did cute. He had to wonder if it was a phase that would pass the longer they were together, and then had to fight off a fresh swarm of butterflies in his stomach at the thought of being with Yuuri long enough to get used to _everything_ about him.

Then Yuuri was back, entirely naked and blushing down to his chest, and Viktor rose up to kiss him with a tenderness that stole their breaths.

He pressed Yuuri down to the mattress, loving how he was so soft and warm under Viktor, the two of them fitting perfectly together. Viktor pressed his cock against Yuuri’s leg, hips moving in unconscious little jerks. Yuuri slid an arm around his back, the other reaching down to grab Viktor’s underwear and make a tugging notion that threatened to rip the whole thing off.

Viktor chucked into their kiss and pulled back long enough to take it off.

He froze the next second, kept in place by the way Yuuri was looking at him, eyes hot and hungry as they swept over Viktor from head to cock. He could feel his body go taut under that gaze, shuddering when Yuuri licked his lips.

“You look like you want to eat me,” Viktor quipped, the humor lost in the breathiness of his voice.

Yuuri’s eyes snapped to his, and Viktor’s dick twitched.

“I do.”

“Oh. Well then, what are you waiting for?”

Yuuri’s smile was all teeth.

After minutes that stretched on to forever, Viktor was a writhing mess on the sheets, wearing marks from Yuuri’s mouth all over skin, each one throbbing like a promise. Yuuri was examining his work, poised between Viktor’s legs and smiling contently, eyes narrow as they lingered on each red mark that would bruise blue and purple in a matter of hours. Viktor’s cock remained hard and untouched, inches away from where Yuuri’s hands were gripping his thighs.

“Are you waiting for me to beg?” Viktor asked once he found his voice, making it clear that he would indeed beg.

Yuuri blinked at him, smile gentling with quiet amusement.

“I’ll spare you this time,” he replied and lowered his head.

He took Viktor into his mouth in one hot slide, and Viktor screamed, throwing his head back with a violence that he felt down to his bones. Yuuri didn’t let him fuck into his mouth, hands pinning his hips to the bed as he sucked cock like he was born for it, all tongue and suction and faint, careful hints of teeth. Viktor’s hands were tangled in the covers, twitching to reach down and tangle in Yuuri’s hair but incapable of releasing their death grips in the sheets. Yuuri pulled nearly all the way off, tonguing the slit as he did, and met Viktor’s eyes for an impossibly long second before sliding back down, taking Viktor’s cock all the way in.

Viktor bit his lips hard enough to taste blood.

He didn’t last, unsurprisingly. Having Yuuri go down on him like a man on a mission was too much too fast after so many days without his touch, and Viktor lost spectacularly to the talented touch of Yuuri’s mouth, barely managing to stutter out a warning before the coil of heat in his gut erupted. Yuuri didn’t heed it, only pressing down harder so his nose was buried in the neatly trimmed thatch of silver hair at the base of Viktor’s cock. His throat worked around Viktor, pulling desperate cries out of him as his climax tore through his senses.

Yuuri didn’t release him until Viktor was soft and shuddering from the wet heat of him. He rose, lips swollen red and come dripping down his chin, and Viktor nearly died again as he watched Yuuri lazily lick up what he could and wipe off the rest with a careless swipe of his forearm.

For the sake of his heart and dick, Viktor closed his eyes, slumped on the bed, and tried to get his breathing under control.

When he felt a little less like spontaneously combusting, he opened them and found Yuuri staring down at him with the very same expression that had gotten Viktor into this state in the first place.

He would very much like to keep this man forever, and it was only the fact that his tongue was too leaden to form words that kept him from saying as much out loud.

“You alright there?” Yuuri asked, gently petting Viktor’s thigh.

“No. I’m dead. You’ve killed me. I’m sure this is heaven.”

Yuuri giggle-snorted, covering his mouth the next moment with a wide-eyed look of embarrassment.

Viktor _had_ to marry this man and raise a hundred puppies with him.

“You’re so cute,” Viktor whispered dreamily, heart skipping a beat when Yuuri turned beet-red.

“Viktor,” Yuuri sighed, a complaint that didn’t quite get the right tone, and apparently decided that the best way to get Viktor to stop was to kiss him, and well, that was hardly something Viktor would argue with.

The kiss didn’t quite distract him from Yuuri’s erection, ignored until now, digging into his belly.

Viktor rolled them over, straddling Yuuri in one, swift motion. He still felt pleasantly boneless, but he was more than willing to push through that for such a noble goal.

Yuuri stared up at him with adoring eyes, both hands resting on Viktor’s hips.

“There’s lube in the drawer. Get it, won’t you?”

“I won’t last long,” Yuuri warned before twisting under Viktor to get to the supplies. Viktor walked his fingers along Yuuri’s side, grinning at the answering hiss.

The lube bottle hit him squarely in the chest. Yuuri glowered at him with an adorably pink face.

“I didn’t know you were ticklish!” Viktor defended himself, the laughter in his voice probably doing him no favors.

“Yes, you did,” Yuuri huffed, exasperated. “Brat.”

“I’m almost thirty! And older than you!”

“ _Brat_ ,” Yuuri repeated with emphasis, smiling widely when Viktor pouted.

“Well, fine, but this brat can fuck you silly.”

It was amazing how quickly Yuuri’s expression went from amused to smoldering.

“Yeah,” Yuuri breathed. “You do that.”

Viktor spread lube on his fingers and reached back for Yuuri’s cock, coating it liberally. He inched back until his ass was flush against Yuuri’s length and maneuvered it so that it was wedged cozily between the cheeks. He braced both hands on Yuuri’s chest and moved, an experimental little jerk that had Yuuri’s cock sliding wet and hot against him, rubbing teasingly against his hole.

“Fuck,” Viktor bit out, helpless not to repeat the motion.

Under him, Yuuri’s eyes were wide and wild at the edges, looking right through Viktor. His breaths came in uncontrolled bursts.

Viktor moved again, moaning when Yuuri’s cock seemed to burn into his skin, slick and scorching. It slid against Viktor’s hole, a hot, insistent pressure that made him clench around nothing.

He’d just wanted to make Yuuri feel good, but he was getting the distinct impression that he’d played himself.

Yuuri seemed beyond words, eyes now screwed shut and mouth twisted into a thin line as he trembled and visibly tried not to fuck into Viktor. The control was cute, but not quite what Viktor wanted, and he reached behind himself again, pressing Yuuri firmly against his ass as he moved, faster and messier, lube and precum smearing on his skin.

“Vik- _Viktor_ ,” Yuuri gasped, sweet and desperate, the tendons of his neck prominent as he arched back into the bed. Viktor kept quiet and moved, focused on the sensation of Yuuri sliding along his flesh. He wanted him inside, splitting Viktor open in that perfect way he had, and it was impossible to resist shifting a little, the new angle making the head press against his entrance, a blunt, threatening pressure that made Viktor _ache_.

It was fitting that it was what broke Yuuri.

Hands clutched at Viktor’s hips, fingers digging hard enough to bruise, and Viktor opened the eyes he hadn’t even known he’d closed to find Yuuri staring at him with wild desperation etched onto his face, lust darkening his eyes into liquid, lightless pools.

“Yuu – fuck,” was all Viktor got out before Yuuri moved, thrusting up roughly, his cock tugging at Viktor’s rim before sliding right past, slick and hard. Viktor curled his fingers against Yuuri’s chest, nails scraping red lines on the skin, as Yuuri did it again and again, fucking Viktor’s ass with short, frenzied thrusts and little whining noises that Viktor wanted to drink from his lips.

Instead, he hung his head and rode the rhythm Yuuri set, panting in tandem with Yuuri’s heaving breaths.

The hot splash of come on his skin was almost a disappointment, but Viktor rode it out, shivering as Yuuri softened between his cheeks. He glanced over his shoulder, straining for a glimpse and flushing hot when he found his skin painted in messy white.

“Damn,” he mouthed, looking back at Yuuri’s face. He was a pretty red, with hair clinging to his skin in sweat-soaked lumps. Viktor leaned in to kiss his forehead, then his cheeks and nose, and finally his mouth, swallowing the sigh Yuuri breathed against his lips.

He rolled over, all but collapsing near Yuuri.

“I can’t believe we went weeks without this. _Weeks_ , Yuuri.”

Beside him, Yuuri made a sound like a dying hyena. Viktor was too pleased with himself to be concerned.

“Yakov told me not to show my face at work till Monday,” he continued cheerfully, winding both arms around one of Yuuri’s and snuggling against him. Semen dripped from his ass, but he was ignoring that for the moment. “Any chance I can keep you in bed until then?”

Yuuri finally deigned to open an eye and look at Viktor.

“Just in bed. I’m starting to think you only want me for my dick.”

Viktor might have rushed to reassure him otherwise, but Yuuri’s voice was blatantly amused.

“In my defense, it’s a damn good dick. You should market it somehow. You’ll be rich in no time, and then I can be your trophy boyfriend.”

Yuuri raised his eyes skyward, looking for divine help that didn’t come.

“ _Why are you like this_.”

“It’s a gift. Enjoy it.”

Yuuri laughed, trying and failing to smother the sound. When he turned his head to look at Viktor, his expression was helplessly fond.

The whole mood was a drastic change from how the night – morning, really, there was even a hint of light outside now – had started out, but Viktor wasn’t complaining. Yuuri looked much happier like this, smiling and relaxed.

“I wasn’t joking,” Viktor told him, a little nervous, a lot serious. “If you can, if it’s alright, please…stay.”

Yuuri’s smile gentled.

“As you wish.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love hearing from you!


	10. it's bliss, it's so simple (but we can't stay)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meeting the family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter’s a day late oops!
> 
> Also, there won’t be any updates from me for around two weeks. Or three. An important Thing and a vacation are coming up in rapid succession. I’ll catch up on comments and be around on tumblr since I’ll have my mobile with me, but updates require a laptop, and I’ll be leaving that behind.

Yuuri was waiting for him on the sidewalk.

Viktor took in his empty hands and casual clothes and the easy air about him, trying not to feel too self-conscious about the three hours he spent trying to put together an outfit and the bag of clothes shoved into the trunk.

He was meeting his boyfriend’s family for the first time. He was allowed to be overzealous. He just wished that the rather frantic butterflies raising a ruckus in his stomach would understand that.

As expected, Yuuri have Viktor a quick smile and then ignored him in favor of cuddling Makkachin, hanging out of his seat to hug her. She returned his enthusiasm, crowding in between the two front seats to cover Yuuri in love and saliva. Viktor wasn’t jealous, because he adored Makkachin and Yuuri and loved to see them together, but he was feeling a little left out.

Yuuri, because he was an actual angel, picked up on it. He didn’t say anything, maybe to protect the remnants of Viktor’s dignity, but his gaze was knowing when he leaned in to give Viktor his kiss. It was sweet and fleeting, and Viktor chased Yuuri’s mouth when he pulled back, grumbling when Yuuri only laughed.

“Don’t pout,” Yuuri told him, reaching over to pat Viktor’s cheek. “You’re too cute when you do that.”

The next second, Yuuri flushed like he sometimes did when he complimented Viktor. He suspected that Yuuri only did that when said compliments were spontaneous enough to take him by surprise.

Viktor cherished every one of them.

He quietly averted his eyes to spare Yuuri further embarrassment and made a show of patting his pockets before drawing out the handkerchief stashed in one. Yuuri blinked at it but didn’t ask why Viktor had something like that in the first place. Viktor was glad for that. He didn’t really know how to explain that keeping something at hand to clean the blood from his skin and weapons was a longstanding habit.

He gripped Yuuri’s chin with one hand and gently wiped the slobber from his face, lingering for a few seconds longer than was strictly necessary. Yuuri didn’t seem to mind, staring at Viktor with hooded eyes and the hint of a smile.

“Thank you,” Yuuri murmured when Viktor reluctantly let him go.

“Don’t mention it,” Viktor returned, suddenly incapable of meeting Yuuri’s gaze.

Makkachin gave a short bark from behind as if asking them to get a move on.

“Somebody’s impatient,” Yuuri told her, reaching back to tap her on the nose. “We’re going, girl.”

Viktor took that as his cue to start the car.

He watched Yuuri enter his parents’ address into the GPS. They lived in the next town, a few hours’ drive away. Yuuri’s sister was there too, living at an apartment close to her restaurant but visiting home each weekend. Yuuri’s visits, Viktor had been told, were far less frequent. Sometimes, he went with Phichit, the friend Viktor didn’t know beyond Yuuri’s words and some pictures on social media.

This time, he was going with Viktor.

The first offer had been a long time ago, nearly forgotten in the rush of events that followed. Viktor didn’t know if Yuuri remembered that at all. It had been vague anyway, no concrete dates to make it seem real.

This was very, very real.

It wasn’t that Viktor wished he’d refused. Even when Yuuri had asked, with poorly hidden nervousness while lying in bed with Viktor, whether he’d like to accompany him this weekend to his parents’, Viktor hadn’t considered anything but a resounding yes. Inevitably though, trepidation had crept into excitement, more and more until it was a conflicting blend of emotions that propelled Viktor out of bed this morning.

A hand came to rest on his knee, tentative for a second and then firm. Viktor swallowed hard, and looked at Yuuri from the corner of his eyes, pleased to see him staring at Viktor with a small smile.

“It’s fine,” Yuuri said, catching Viktor’s gaze. “My parents are very easygoing. They’ll like you.”

“Can you read my mind now?”

Yuuri snorted, mouth curling.

“I wish. You’re just very obvious.”

 _Only with you_ , Viktor wanted to say, but the confession stuck in his throat.

“Sorry,” he said instead. “You’ve said that before. I know. I just don’t want to let you down.”

“You won’t,” Yuuri said with a surety that Viktor envied. “Trust me.”

Viktor did, but it was hard to apply logic to emotions. It wasn’t his first time meeting a boyfriend’s family, though he’d only had to do it once or twice before. Most of his attempts at dating hadn’t lasted long enough. With those that had, he’d been perfectly polite and charming, the kind of boy any parent would want for their child. Those weren’t his words, and the man who’d said them had been more mocking than pleased, so Viktor didn’t know how wise that approach would be here.

Besides, he had a feeling that Yuuri would see through most acts Viktor put on, and the thought, as always, was as comforting as it was terrifying. In any case, he was sure he wouldn’t make Yuuri happy if he tried to charm his family with a false front. That left him the option of being himself, or at least mostly himself. The idea was daunting.

It was also a little thrilling.

The hand on his knee crept up to his thigh, and Viktor’s mind screeched to a half.

“Yuuri,” he warned, most of the effect lost in the hoarseness of his voice. “You’re going to get us killed.”

Yuuri shot him an angelic smile.

“So sorry, Viktor. You seemed distracted, that’s all.”

“You’re not sorry. And you wanted to solve my distraction by…distracting me more?”

“By providing a more pleasant distraction,” Yuuri corrected, still smiling innocently. That smile did things to Viktor.

It was a struggle to keep his eyes on the road.

“You’re not actually offering to jerk me off _while I drive_ , are you?”

“Of course not,” Yuuri answered promptly. Viktor didn’t quite believe him, maybe because his hand had yet to leave his thighs and was, in fact, stroking lazily along the inseam.

Viktor was very thankful that there wasn’t much traffic at the moment.

“Please don’t make us crash, I promise I won’t fret about meeting your parents.”

“Oh, good,” Yuuri said cheerfully. His hand returned to Viktor’s knee.

“You’re evil,” Viktor told him.

And if he sounded hopelessly besotted as he did, well, Yuuri’s smile only widened so that was alright.

 

* * *

 

In hindsight, all his worrying seemed so unnecessary. Because of course he’d adore Yuuri’s family like he adored Yuuri.

It was strange how quickly he took to them, and they to him, because Viktor was affable by nature and he did, for the most part, enjoy other people’s company provided it was of the pleasant sort, but he was also slow to feel any real connections. And he wasn’t saying that he was attached to the Katsukis after a scant few hours in their company, but well–

“This is delicious,” Viktor declared reverently, beaming up at Hiroko, who blushed a delicate red and leaned over to pat Viktor’s cheeks.

“Eat up,” she told him fondly, smiling with a warmth that curled nice and tight in Viktor’s chest, tucked close to his heart. “There’s plenty of it for you, Vicchan.”

–well, maybe he was saying exactly that.

Yuuri sat opposite him, cradling his own bowl of katsudon and watching Viktor in between bites with hooded eyes that he found hard to meet. Yuuri’s sister, Mari, sat beside him, quiet and composed but exuding a certain presence that captured one’s attention. Yuuri’s father was in the kitchen, but he’d greeted Viktor earlier with a well-meaning exuberance that had made him grin until his mouth hurt.

They were all so warm and lively, and if Viktor let himself, he’d be reeling at the way they’d drawn him into their fold with no hesitance. There had been no wary, measuring looks weighing him to see whether he was worthy of Yuuri. They’d seen him at Yuuri’s side and welcomed him to their home like he _belonged_ there.

It was startlingly different from everything his overactive imagination had cooked up, and a part of Viktor didn’t know how to process everything. But that part was pushed deep into his mind while the rest of him basked in this unexpected boon.

To be fair, it was hard to be worried about anything when he was eating Katsuki Hiroko’s katsudon. The only thing that had kept Viktor from falling into rapture at the first bite was his passing familiarity with it. It seemed to taste even better now, served hot and steaming by the cook herself. The way Yuuri was inhaling his own bowl told Viktor that, like Yuuri had warned him, prolonged exposure really wouldn’t dull the experience.

“I love your mother,” Viktor whispered fervently once the woman in question has retreated. “Yuuri, she’s so _sweet_.”

Yuuri smiled, shy but pleased, and looked down at his food.

Mari made a sound like a muffled snort. When Viktor looked over, she was casually chewing her mouthful and looking away, the very picture of studied disinterest.

“I’d say she likes you too,” Yuuri told him, voice hesitant but earnest, and Viktor had to fight off a blush.

Her crooned Vicchan was the most adorable thing ever, and Viktor didn’t even care that it had been the name of their old dog. _That_ had been an interesting conversation too. Toshiya had taken one look at Makkachin and dubbed her a much bigger Vicchan. Yuuri had had the pleasure of explaining that the only Viktor in their midst was even bigger and also very human. He’d seemed embarrassed, but Viktor was sure he’d heard a thread of dark amusement in his voice. His boyfriend was tricky like that.

Currently, Makkachin was in the kitchen, probably making good use of her doggy wiles to get Yuuri’s parents to feed her. Viktor couldn’t even judge her, not when everything that came out of the kitchen was so good.

He finished his bowl and stared mournfully at it. This was his second. Everything in him clamored for another, but his stomach was already bulging. Any more and Yuuri might have to roll him away from the dining table.

He shared a commiserating glance with Yuuri.

“Can I move here?” Viktor asked wistfully, pushing his bowl away. “Actually, how did you ever manage to move away, Yuuri?”

Mari made another strangled noise.

“With great difficulty,” Yuuri answered. “I still visit a lot.”

“Yes, you’ve mentioned – oh my god.”

“Viktor?”

“The katsudon from before! You brought it all the way from here! Oh, _Yuuri_.”

Viktor wanted to grab him and do things that were very inappropriate with Yuuri’s sister watching. And maybe it showed because Mari rolled her eyes at them and stood up, smoothly grabbing all their bowls and marching to the kitchen.

“Uh-oh. Did I say something to offend her?”

Yuuri’s startled expression eased into something fond.

“Nah. Mari’s just giving us space. She takes a while to warm up to people.”

Viktor suddenly had the feeling that his future wouldn’t be as free of shovel talks as he’d hoped. He’d brave worse for Yuuri though. He reached over the table and took Yuuri’s hand in his, a thrill zinging up his spine when Yuuri immediately laced their fingers together.

“Thank you, Yuuri.”

“Uh…for the katsudon?” Yuuri asked, that same wide-eyed look back on his face. Viktor shook his head.

“No. Well, yes, that was amazing of you, but I was talking about, well, this. All of this. Bringing me here. Your family is very nice.”

That was so inadequate. Nice didn’t encapsulate everything he wanted to express. But Viktor didn’t try to explain, afraid that he’d stumble over words and mess it up like he so often did when Yuuri was involved.

“You don’t need to thank me,” Yuuri replied, his eyes as soft as his voice. “It’s my pleasure.”

Viktor shivered, heart speeding up a little. He had to swallow twice before he could speak.

“So, what are we doing today?”

“Well,” Yuuri began, dry in that way that indicated a gentle jab at Viktor was incoming. “I figured we could take a nap. It was a long drive, and _someone_ was up texting me until four in the morning.”

Viktor looked away from Yuuri, suddenly fascinated by the plain brown wall.

In his defense, he’d been nervous and excited and the only thing that had calmed him down was talking to Yuuri until he could no longer keep his eyes open.

“You were up late too,” he returned weakly.

“Yes, that’s why we’re both taking a nap. Wait here, I’ll help with the dishes and come back.”

“I’ll help too,” Viktor said, half rising.

But Yuuri was there behind him, pushing Viktor back down with a firm grip on his shoulders.

“You’re a guest. A very special one, but still. My mother would kill me. No, she’d look at me with so much disappointment that I’ll wish she’d just killed me. Stay. I won’t be long.”

Yuuri kissed his cheek, and the shock of pleasure that burst through Viktor distracted him from putting up a fight. And it was true that it hurt to even imagine Katsuki Hiroko spearing his soul with the gentle force of her disappointment.

Viktor stayed put, absently browsing through his Instagram and sneaking glances towards the kitchen every few minutes.

True to his words, Yuuri was back soon. He held out a hand to Viktor who took it gladly, never one to let a chance to touch Yuuri pass by. He couldn’t resist stealing a kiss either, and Yuuri made a surprised noise against his lips. When Viktor pulled back, he was adorably flustered.

“Um – so let’s – sleep. Our nap. Let’s do that.”

Viktor just smiled at him, smitten down to each loud beat of his heart.

“We should find Makka first,” Yuuri told him, still a little flushed. “Where is she?”

Viktor frowned, looking around as if that would make her appear.

“I thought she was in the kitchen?”

“Ah, no. It’s okay. She can’t have gone anywhere.”

They found her easily enough, in a small room placed unobtrusively by the living room. She turned at the sound of Viktor’s footsteps and threw herself at him, and he happily went down to his knees to hold her. Yuuri’s absence beside them was conspicuous.

Viktor turned his head and found him standing by the doorway, his expression forlorn as he stared at something beyond Viktor and Makkachin.

Yuuri’s name frozen on his lips, Viktor followed his gaze.

He’d missed the shrine, too focused on Makkachin. The picture at the forefront was of a young boy, clearly Yuuri, but the focus was on the tiny, fluffy puppy in his arms, panting and happy as he pressed close to his human.

Viktor stared for a long few minutes at little Vicchan, feeling a distant sort of ache that he was no longer in this world. When he returned his eyes to Yuuri, he was staring back.

“That’s him,” Yuuri told him quietly. “The first Victor in my life.”

“He’d adorable,” Viktor replied, utterly truthful.

Yuuri’s answering smile was tender enough to hurt.

“Come on,” he said, beckoning. Makkachin rushed to him instantly. “Let’s go to my room.”

Viktor shot the picture one last glance and followed.

 

* * *

 

Yuuri was already up when Viktor woke, head propped on his elbows as he watched Viktor. Makkachin lay between them, one leg twitching sporadically while Yuuri scratched her belly.

Viktor watched them with hazy eyes for several seconds, cozy and content.

A yawn split his face and he followed it up with a satisfying stretch, blinking the last of sleep from his eyes.

“Good nap,” he mumbled, turning over to cuddle Makkachin. She squirmed into his embrace. “When did you wake up?”

“A few minutes ago,” Yuuri answered, his hand leaving Makkachin’s belly to settle on Viktor’s head. He repeated the petting motions and maybe Viktor should be insulted, but it felt so good and all he did was lean into the touch with a happy hum.

“Were you watching me sleep, Yuuuuuri?”

He’d never get tired of that pretty shade of pink that lit up Yuuri’s face.

“That makes it sound creepy,” Yuuri complained, and Viktor hid his face in Makkachin’s fur, smothering a giggle. He didn’t point out that there was really no way to watch someone sleep without making it weird. That would make him a hypocrite after all.

“Hey, what’s the time?”

“Almost six.”

“My sleep will be fucked tonight,” Viktor complained. Makkachin contorted to lick his face in consolation. “Mm, good girl, what a good girl.”

Yuuri was looking at them with unbridled affection. It made Viktor feel warm down to his bones.

“I’m sure we can find some way to keep ourselves occupied,” Yuuri told him, lightly enough but with a hint of suggestiveness that had Viktor perking up, blinking at him in surprise and something else.

“You’re not saying what I think you’re saying, are you?”

“I don’t know, am I?” Yuuri replied, deceptively mild.

“Yuuuuuuri!”

Yuuri stopped petting Viktor’s hair and flicked him on the forehead, gentle and playful.

“That’s for later, isn’t it? What should we do until then?”

Viktor pouted briefly but allowed the diversion.

“You tell me. This is your home.”

Yuuri shrugged, sliding back down on the bed. Makkachin took advantage of it to burrow into him, leaving Viktor in the cold, and he just had to follow her, throwing a mostly bare leg over Yuuri’s hips as he did. Yuuri made a pleased noise at the back of his throat, kissing Makkachin’s nose and gripping Viktor’s calf with his hand.

“I’d give you a tour, but you’ve already seen everything. The upper floor is for the guests. There aren’t any at the moment though. We could go for a walk, if you want? And skate maybe.”

“Skate?” Viktor asked, curious.

“There’s a rink nearby. I used to go there a lot as a kid. It’s pretty nice.”

“Sure! I haven’t done it in a while, no time for it, but I enjoy it.”

Yuuri’s smile was a little surprised, a lot happy.

“Okay. We’ll do that. We should get ready then.”

The last part was said with a meaningful look at Viktor’s bare torso. Yuuri was still in the clothes he’d arrived in, only the outer layers removed. Viktor grinned, winking.

Makkachin wasn’t too pleased when her humans left the bed, but she followed them out of the room without hesitance, obligingly staying still when Viktor clipped the leash to her collar. They didn’t see anyone but Toshiya on the way out, and he only looked away from the television long enough to give them an eye-crinkling smile. Viktor returned it tenfold.

Outside, he glanced at Yuuri and was happy to find him smiling widely.

“See?” he said quietly. “I told you they’d like you.”

Viktor considered protesting that it was really too soon to tell, but he was too pleased to go through with it. Instead, he nodded and took Yuuri’s hand, swinging their arms between them as they walked. Makkachin trotted ahead of them, glancing curiously about the unfamiliar places and stopping now and then to sniff at an interesting patch of dirt.

Even at a sedate pace, it only took them around fifteen minutes to reach the rink. It was a pale, compact building, amusingly named Ice Castle.

Yuuri, when Viktor looked at him, was smiling, fond with an edge of anticipation.

“You come here often?”

“All the time when I was a kid,” Yuuri replied, nostalgic in a sweet kind of way. “My childhood friend – Yuuko – she was really into figure skating. And well, you know that age where you’d do anything to be with that one particular friend? Yeah. I liked it a lot, but Yuuko thrived on the ice.” He turned to Viktor, beaming so wide that there was a little flush to his cheeks. “She competed internationally until a couple of years ago. Medaled in the Olympics on her last year. She’s amazing!”

Viktor stared, a little caught off guard by the way Yuuri lit up when praising his friend. There was so much sincere joy in his face, and Viktor wanted to pull him close and drink it from his lips.

“This was her home rink. She and her husband bought this place from the owner after she retired. Now she coaches kids and a couple of junior skaters.”

It was silly, but some part of Viktor relaxed when Yuuri mentioned his friend’s husband. Really, really silly. Viktor wasn’t even the jealous type.

“She sounds like a great person,” Viktor remarked honestly.

“She is. I’ll introduce you to her, if she’s here.”

She was.

Viktor didn’t know what he was expecting; he didn’t exactly follow figure skating though he had come across a few impressive videos on the internet, all glittering costumes and impossible grace. But those were active competitors, not a retired skater in the comfort of her rink.

Yuuko was young and cheerful and slammed into Yuuri with open arms and a shriek of delight that pulled a surprised yelp from Yuuri, followed by soft greetings and softer smiles. Viktor watched them, a few steps behind, feeling like an outsider for the first time since he came here.

Then Yuuri stepped back, turning his head to look at Viktor, and suddenly, Yuuko was in front of him, hand held out and grin in place.

“Hi!” she chirped. “You must be Viktor! Nishigori Yuuko.”

“Hello,” he returned, taking her hand. She had a nice, firm grip. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Makkachin sniffed curiously at Yuuko’s leg, and she gasped, dropping to her knees to coo at his girl, much to her delight. Viktor decided with little reservations that he liked Yuuko.

Despite the whirlwind greeting, Yuuko didn’t stay long. Viktor caught something about sponsor meetings for one of her skaters before she was gone with a parting hug for Yuuri, a blown kiss for Makkachin, and a friendly wink for Viktor, leaving them all in the care of a man who was built more like a hockey player than a figure skater.

Nishigori Takeshiwas just as friendly and energetic as his wife, at least towards Yuuri. Viktor, he treated with a cautious distance that he couldn’t charm away with any number of smiles. They left Makkachin with him and went get their skates, Yuuri apparently being trusted enough to know his way about the place.

“Wow,” Viktor breathed when they were alone. Yuuri gave him a sympathetic look.

“Sorry about that. I don’t come here as often as I used to, and the last few times I did, Yuuko and Takeshi were busy.”

“No, it’s fine. I was just surprised. They seem like great people.”

“They are. You should see the triplets. Forces of nature…like a hurricane. Or a tsunami, depending on the day.”

“Uh, Yuuri, those are natural disasters.”

The look Yuuri gave him was slightly hunted.

“Yes.”

Yuuri’s life, Viktor decided, was livelier than he’d expected.

Things were calmer on the ice. There were a few others, mostly teenagers, but no so many that the rink felt crowded. Viktor was a little hesitant when he stepped on the ice, clutching Yuuri’s hand, half for balance, half because he could. But he needn’t have worried. Despite being out of practice, it only took a couple of minutes for him to adjust to the ice under his skates.

Yuuri skated beside him, obviously comfortable, never going far from Viktor and occasionally literally skating circles around him, a teasing glint in his eyes. Viktor watched him, eyes more for Yuuri than the ice, completely bewitched and helpless with it.

There was something different about Yuuri here in his hometown. A certain languid ease that made Viktor want to never take his eyes off him. To be fair, he never really wanted to look away from Yuuri, but this was – well, different.

It felt like a privilege to be allowed to see this, to be part of this.

Regret bloomed, guilt following behind, because Viktor didn’t have a family to introduce Yuuri to, and the closest thing he had to it was wrapped in secrets that Yuuri could never be a part of.

Cool fingers touched his cheek, drawing Viktor out of his thoughts.

“You alright?” Yuuri asked, hovering close.

Viktor nearly brushed it off, lied that he was fine, but he changed his mind without really knowing it, and what left his lips was a fragile question.

“How’d you know?”

Yuuri’s eyes widened, then grew soft in a way that made it hard for Viktor to _breathe_.

“You got quiet,” Yuuri told him, fingers trailing up to tap Viktor’s temple. “All distant, like you weren’t really here.”

Yuuri had noticed. It wasn’t a shock, not anymore, but it was still new enough to send a little jolt up Viktor’s spine, the way Yuuri saw him so clearly.

He pulled Yuuri close, sending them spinning across the ice, precarious and perfect. They had a corner of the rink all to themselves. Viktor saw some of the others shoot glances at them, probably worried that they might start making out. One boy made an expression that starkly reminded him of Yuri.

He just hooked his chin over Yuuri’s shoulder and buried his face in his hair, keeping it very PG.

Yuuri was stiff against him for a moment but relaxed with a huff, one hand coming to rest of the small of Viktor’s back, the other curling around his neck. They stayed like that for a moment before Viktor propelled himself away, catching Yuuri hand and dragging him along as he did. Yuuri came easily, letting Viktor lead him around on the ice with an indulgent look.

“Got any fancy tricks?” Viktor asked after several minutes of aimless skating. “You must have picked up a few from Yuuko.”

Yuuri rolled his eyes, his smile growing rueful.

“I knew a couple,” he said with a shrug. “But I’m out of practice now.” He looked down and patted his belly. “Out of shape too.”

Viktor slid his arms around Yuuri’s middle, squeezing gently and making Yuuri blush bright.

“I love your shape,” Viktor told him, entirely sincere. “You’re so _soft_.”

Yuuri was giving him a _look_ , all startled silence and hesitant awe. Viktor kissed him, unheedful of their audience, and lingered until Yuuri’s frown became a smile under his lips.

 

* * *

 

It was dark out when they left the rink, a scant few minutes before closing time. Viktor had a feeling that he’d regret staying on the ice so long later, but for the moment, he felt like he was floating, Yuuri the only thing keeping him grounded.

They were halfway to Yuuri’s house when Viktor stopped and pulled Yuuri into a proper kiss.

Yuuri gasped against his mouth, fingers clutching Viktor’s arms, and he took the chance to deepen the kiss, slipping his tongue inside Yuuri’s mouth. Yuuri moaned and kissed back, pressing close to Viktor. They had to break away all too soon, not quite managing to forget that they were still in public.

“What was that for?” Yuuri asked, each word breathed against Viktor’s jaw.

“I wanted to do that in the rink, but well.”

Yuuri chuckled, deliciously breathless.

“Ridiculous man,” he chided, but he sounded almost doting.

“You like it?” Viktor said, a hint of uncertainty turning it into a question.

Yuuri didn’t answer, but he kissed Viktor, chaste and sweet, and that was as clear an answer as he needed.

His next words slipped out without any input from his brain.

“I can’t return the favor, you know.”

Yuuri pulled away and even with his face half in shadows, the confusion in his expression was evident. Viktor had a moment of doubt, indecision crawling up his chest as he vacillated between following that following through and brushing it off. It was Yuuri who convinced him of the latter, simply by not saying anything, just waiting, still and patient with his eyes a warm weight on Viktor.

Viktor smiled, hoped Yuuri didn’t see the waver in it, and spoke.

“I don’t have a family. My fathers, they’re dead.”

There was a sharp intake of breath from Yuuri. Viktor waited for the inevitable outpouring of pity, but there was only silence and Yuuri’s hand stroking gently over his cheek. He leaned into the touch instinctually.

“There’s a cemetery I could take you to,” Viktor continued, closing his eyes. “But that’s a little morbid, isn’t it?”

“I wouldn’t mind,” Yuuri said, so quiet that Viktor had to strain to hear him. “If you wanted to…I’d be happy to come with you.”

Viktor sighed, soft and shuddering.

Of course Yuuri would – of course.

“Maybe,” he replied quietly. “One day.”

Yuuri’s hand slid over to creep into his hair and then he was pulling, firm and gentle, and Viktor could find no reason to resist. Yuuri held him tight, not like something that could shatter, and Viktor melted into him with a single hitched breath.

He’d made peace with his parents’ passing years ago. He’d had to, or risk burning out with the sort of rage that only flared brighter with each demon he killed. But it was an ache that would never go away, and he tried not to bring it to the forefront, even if that meant rarely ever talking about it.

He didn’t regret telling Yuuri.

Viktor pulled back, smiling and kissing Yuuri at the corner of his lips before turning away, sliding his arm through Yuuri’s and resuming their walk. Makkachin, having waited patiently for her humans to sort out their business, rubbed her body along their legs and primly led the way back.

Mari was outside when they returned, sprawled on the veranda with cigarette in hand. Yuuri gave her a nonchalant greeting and went inside. Viktor stayed behind, bending to unclip Makkachin’s leash. She followed Yuuri the second she was free but Viktor, for some incomprehensible reason, remained with Mari.

Maybe it was because Mari remained the most unapproachable of the family. Hiroko and Toshiya were kind and friendly and seemed to have taken to Viktor as easily as he to them. Mari was a different matter. Viktor didn’t get the sense that she disliked him, just that she didn’t really…like him. Yet.

“Hello,” he offered when she just watched him silently.

“Hey,” she drawled.

He dallied for another moment, making awkward eye contact. Mari’s face remained blank, but Viktor got the distinct sense that she was enjoying watching him squirm.

“I’ll just…go,” he said lamely and fled inside.

Dinner was a quiet affair, in a nice, cozy sort of way. None of the Katsukis talked much. Yuuri’s parents occasionally asked him questions, mundane ones like where he lived and what he did for work, and he answered honestly for what he could, lied for the rest and felt fresh guilt churn thick and searing in his gut. In spite of that, it was good. And Yuuri was a quiet, reassuring presence by his side, one hand resting on Viktor’s knee under the table.

This time around, Viktor managed to wheedle his way into helping with dishes, making puppy eyes at Hiroko until she blushed and tutted and waved him into the kitchen. Yuuri raised an eyebrow, and even Mari looked a little impressed.

Viktor felt so _full_ , something bright and effervescent filling up his head and heart.

It was almost a relief to retire to their room, being alone with Yuuri familiar though no less intense, even after all this time.

When Viktor finished his nightly rituals and exited the bathroom, Yuuri was stripped down to his boxers and laying something out on the bed. Viktor crept up behind him, hugging Yuuri from behind and disappointed when all he got was a faint giggle and Yuuri leaning back against him.

“I heard you come out, Viktor,” Yuuri told him, amused.

Viktor just whined and nuzzled into his neck, perking up when he saw what was on the bed.

“What’s that?”

“A jinbei. We usually give one to the guests during their stay here. I know you packed clothes, but well, I thought this might suit you while you’re here.”

Viktor spared an admiring glance for the olive green fabric before turning Yuuri towards him and showing his appreciation with lips, teeth, and tongue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you liked!

**Author's Note:**

> You can find explanations for the terminology used [here.](https://voxofthevoid.tumblr.com/post/169791184028/toxic-valentine-infodump)
> 
> I'll update this as the story progresses.


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